


A Rose in all but Name (the perfume and the pricks the same)

by A_Stressed_Cupcake



Series: Sanders Sides Royalty AU [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Assassination Plot(s), Blood, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders Are Twins, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Needs a Hug, First Kiss, Healthy Relationships, Kidnapping, M/M, Prinxiety - Freeform, Slow Burn, Thomas is actually here this time, but enjoy the romance, but just briefly, discovering love and romance together, so are Virge and Thomas, they are also royalty, this will get angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:15:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 39,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22319245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Stressed_Cupcake/pseuds/A_Stressed_Cupcake
Summary: Prince Roman and his twin brother, the Duke of Estirith, are on their way to a week of relaxation visiting their friend Thomas in honour of their birthday.Or so they think, at least. Who knew they'd have extra guests this year?_______A royalty AU because apparently I can only write AUs.  :)Featuring the only actual romance I have ever written that isn't an established relationship.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Everyone
Series: Sanders Sides Royalty AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1773685
Comments: 273
Kudos: 223





	1. May 27th; or, how to win a bet.

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back to my fever dreams, everyone :)  
> This one has some actual romance (shocking, I know) and a lot of angst coming (but you knew that part).  
> Enjoy :3

_ May 26th _

_ Dear Diary, _

_ It is almost 9 in the evening and we are now on our way. I shall update you in the morning, whenever I am within reach of a writing desk. _

The sun was bright. Everything was bright. Everything was  _ too _ bright for his poor delicate eyes when he opened them, so he ingeniously decided to simply  _ not  _ open them. To be fair, he must’ve been asleep for a long time. 

When he finally decided to open his eyes for real, he was met with bright green and blue. Cloudless sky and lush vegetation all around their carriage from where he’d been leaning his head against the window. It was beautiful. He’d painted landscapes before, but hey, there can never be enough paintings. He shifted his eyes to the dirt road beneath them. 

“Good morning.” someone mumbled from the other side of the carriage. 

He raised his head. Logan sat in front of him, reading. He’d probably been awake for hours by then, and grown bored of a landscape he saw every few months. 

“Good morning, Lulu!” he chirped, stretching his arms, “How long was I asleep?”

“A healthy seven hours, if I’m not mistaken.” he replied, turning the page.

Roman smiled. Either he’d grown accustomed to the young prince’s continuous use of nicknames, or he was too tired to correct him. The carriage was quiet. Which meant that…

Someone groaned beside him. Right on cue.

“And a good morning to you, brother.” Roman greeted, “I beat you by five minutes.”

“Ah, shit.” his brother shrugged.

Logan gave him a disapproving glare: “Remus, I have openly discouraged you from using this type of language before.”

“Sorry, dad.” Remus grinned.

“For the last time, I’m not your father.”

Roman let his mind wander away from their banter. As hilarious as it was, it was no match for Roman’s tired brain throwing out ideas like rice at a wedding. Remus’s creativity was just as active, of course, but he had never really needed to think about it much. His twin brother had an extraordinary talent for improvisation that Roman didn’t  _ quite _ share; the only downside to it was that all his ideas made people cringe in disgust. 

Remus was capable of improvising an entire song, but only if it was about all the different ways to murder someone (why yes, he  _ had _ actually done it, and no, Logan was  _ not _ over it).

Logan was worried, he assumed. He wouldn’t be responsible for the twins for much longer, as they were turning eighteen in a week. While that meant that he wouldn’t have to answer for their turbulent behaviour, it also meant they would be entirely unhinged. To be completely honest, Roman would have liked it better if things could have stayed as they were. There was no denying that Logan was a good king. He was rational, available, well-liked. Roman was...well, people didn’t dislike him, but they probably liked him as a person more than a king. Not giving the throne to Remus had been a no-brainer, mostly because he didn’t want it; unfortunately, that meant that the Parliament’s attention had immediately fallen on his dreamer of a younger brother. And he’d accepted in a heartbeat, obviously, because why would he refuse?

His train of thought ran cold when Remus poked his cheek with a dagger. Which might have been a bigger cause of concern in any other family. “Earth to Roman!!” he called, and cackled like the little maniac he was.

“Remus.” Logan warned: “Put that away.”

Remus hissed like a wild raccoon, but did as he was told.

“We’re almost there.” Roman commented, “Hey, Remus?”

His brother tilted his head.

“Wanna guess what’s for dinner?” he suggested, “Loser goes into the crypt at midnight.”

"Statistically speaking, you're both quite likely to lose." Logan's comment fell on deaf ears.

“Hell yeah!” Remus laughed, completely ignoring him, “My money’s on fish soup.”

“What about dessert?”

“I say Sachertorte.”

“I say angel cake.” Roman retorted.

“Angel cake is boring.” mumbled his brother.

“You take that back.”

“Make me.”

“War it is!” declared Roman, lunging at Remus, but Logan shut that fight down within seconds with little more than a glare and some well-placed words. He’d had practice.

“What would you get for dessert, Logan?” inquired Remus, propping his feet up against the window.

“First of all, put your feet down.” the king scolded. Remus sighed, but did as he was told. “Secondly, I suppose I’d prefer something with fruit. Better yet, marmalade.”

The twins nodded in acknowledgement. 

“But don’t even think about baking it yourselves.”

The twins groaned.

When the palace came into view, the boys sprang up to look from the window. The garden was truly a sight to behold in spring. Even though they visited Thomas fairly often, it didn’t get any less stunning.

“Look at those roses!” Roman pointed at the rose garden in utter delight. The rose garden was his favourite. He’d painted it more times than he could count, he spent hours there every time they visited, and he’d grown a similar garden at their palace. 

“And look at the stream!” Remus squealed. He really loved the stream. And the pond, and the lake, and the sea… basically, he would’ve lived underwater if he could. He'd tried it once as a kid and, after spending two weeks in bed with pneumonia (and passing it to Roman just on account of how much time they spent together), was forbidden from ever getting too close to a body of water when he was alone. Not that that had stopped him.

Logan was looking outside as well, not insensitive to the colourful beauty of the garden: “It is quite lush this year, I agree.”

Out on the balcony that dominated the upper floor of the palace, they spotted a figure clad in black and gold.

“We must have been the first ones to arrive.” Logan commented.

The twins were practically hanging halfway out the window by that point, trying to get the figure’s attention. 

“ **Thomas** !!” Remus yelled, waving his arm frantically.

“I don’t think he can hear you.” Logan warned, “We are way too far away.”

“But it’s fun to try.” Remus retorted, before resuming his attempts.

It took them a while, but Thomas did notice them. By the time they finally pulled up in front of the palace (maybe five minutes later), he’d run inside and descended the stairs to the front of the castle, followed by a poor, breathless page. He himself was clearly winded when they gracefully  _ (way faster than any prince worthy of his title should run) _ exited their carriage. Which meant they probably shouldn’t have smothered him in a hug immediately upon their arrival, but it was a tradition they couldn’t renounce. Thomas didn’t really mind, of course. He’d missed them too.

The page hurried to the carriage to get their luggage, but Remus was faster. He waved the poor servant away and proceeded to juggle all of their things on his shoulders. The page looked to Thomas in terror, to which he awkwardly reassured him that this was normal. Remus liked to do the work himself. 

Thomas was tired. His hand trembled slightly under the insignificant weight of a nearly empty teacup, he wouldn’t stop picking at his sleeve and his eyes kept shifting back and forth between the corners of the room. It was pretty obvious he’d been stressing out about  _ something _ , and Roman decided then and there he was going to find out what. 

_ But not now _ , he concluded,  _ not in front of everyone _ ,  _ or he’ll never tell me _ .

“Hey, Thomas?” Remus leaned forward to get his friend’s attention. 

The young king looked at him with tired eyes: “Yes?”

“You said there’d be someone new here this year?” 

“Ah.” Thomas lit up a bit: “Yeah, I did. You know Damien’s cousin?”

“He talks about him sometimes.” Remus shrugged.

“He’ll be here too.” Thomas informed them, “Damien wrote to tell me, but the letter arrived only yesterday so I’ve been trying to figure it out. How to welcome him, you know? I don’t actually know him.”

_ Is that it? _

_ No, there’s more. _

“Hey Rem, what’s he like?” Roman intervened.

Remus shrugged: “Damien says he’s like… reaaaaaally shy. And kinda difficult. Doesn’t like to talk to people, doesn’t like crowds, being the center of attention and all that. He told me, no, he  _ stressed _ , that we should be nice to him.”

Thomas made a little whine in the back of his throat.

Roman scoffed: “I don’t know what he means. I’m delightful.”

“Of course you are.” smiled Thomas. 

No one spoke after that.

A few hours later, Roman found his friend sitting in the rose garden. Thomas was humming quietly as he carefully removed the thorns of a pink rose. 

_ Here we go then. _

“Do I see some new roses here on this day?" Roman inquired, strolling behind his friend, "Those ones in the corner, the purplish... dark pink ones? They're beautiful."

Thomas smiled weakly: "I thought you'd like them."

"I always adore your roses." the young prince sighed dreamily, "They make me think of romances unimaginable."

"I'm sure you can imagine them, though." Thomas retorted.

"You know me too well, Thomas..."

"What can I say? I've known you for a long time-"

"...which is why you should know by now that I've figured it out." Roman interrupted.

Thomas shifted his gaze away: "I don't know what you're talking about."

"The fact that you have to say that is a red flag all on its own." said Roman, "Come on, Thomas. You're tired. You're worried. You're scared. I wanna know why. Spill the royal beans, my friend!" he commanded.

"Look, Roman…" Thomas raised his hands in surrender. The rose fell abandoned in his lap: "...you know that I love you, right?"

"Who doesn't?"

"And you know that I respect you deeply."

"Of course."

"Don't get me wrong…" Thomas stumbled a bit on the start of the sentence: "... I trust you with my life, and you are one of my closest friends. But…"

He kept glancing back and forth between the corners of the rose garden. There was something.

"But?" Roman encouraged, curious.

"No." Thomas changed his mind, "No, it's nothing. Don't worry about it."

The tense smile that followed made not worrying pretty close to impossible, though.

"Come oooon…" he insisted.

"It's really nothing!" Thomas shook his head, but his cheeks were starting to flush and his eyes were beginning to wander. Which meant an obvious lie.

“Thomas. Come on.” he teased, “I know you too well. Spill the beans, friend.”

And so he did. All in one breath, Thomas told him exactly what the problem was.

Namely, the letter he’d received from Damien. 

"He said I shouldn't tell you…" Thomas frowned.

"I'm offended." scoffed Roman. "Come on, Thomas. You look like you want to cry, and you can't have a bawl without a prince!" he winked.

"There are...several princes around." Thomas pointed out.

"Not yet!"

"Very soon."

"Regardless! I want to know. I promise that not a single word of this shall be known." Roman pleaded.

The poor king seemed conflicted. A perfect moment to keep insisting.

"Come on, Thomas. You know you can tell me."

Thomas scratched his head in distress: "You promise you won't tell anyone?"

"Not a soul."

"Not even Remus?"

"I said not a soul, didn't I?"

Thomas sighed. "A while ago…" he began. Roman leaned towards him to listen more closely.

"Damien sent me an urgent letter. It only said that Virgil would be coming to your party too this year. Nothing strange there, right? Except… that wasn't all." Thomas paused for a moment and searched the pockets of his jacket for something: "He wrote the rest in a cipher."

"How very Damien." Roman commented.

"Yeah. That's what I thought too, but I was worried-"

"You? How uncharacteristic!"

Thomas laughed nervously: "I was worried because it was so rushed. It was almost chicken scratch at one point.”

Roman frowned: “That actually  _ is _ uncharacteristic.”

“I know, right? So I went to decode it and…” his voice dropped to a whisper: “...it said that he and Virgil would arrive early because… because he thinks they might be in danger.”

Roman flinched: “In danger by what?”

Silence fell.

“Assassins.” Thomas murmured.

That’s where the conversation ended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOO I AM FINALLY POSTING THIS MY DARLINGS  
> I started writing this a while ago, in November perhaps, and have been quite eager to share it.  
> As mentioned in the tags, this is a slow burn, because if I have to suffer to write this romance, you have to suffer too. 
> 
> Leave a comment and let me know what you think ;)
> 
> Next time: Roman visits an old friend and spots a potential new friend.


	2. His Highness, the Prince of Asterion

_ May 27th _

_ Dear Diary, _

_ Poor Thomas! He seems to me peculiarly disturbed today. I have reason to believe he has lost sleep. I shall like to find out what perturbs him so much, and will certainly update you when I do.  _

_ I am off to find him now. _

_ I shall also meet Patton, wherever he may have gone. _

_ An update is coming, my dear. Don’t fret! I will not be gone for long. _

  
  


Ten minutes later, Roman was marching to the infirmary.

He wasn't sick, of course, nor injured: it wasn’t like him to be physically unfit at any given time and, when he was, it was usually Remus’s fault. However, there  _ was _ someone he still hadn't seen. 

Patton was the royal physician. He was older than any of them, surpassing Logan in age by only a few years, and he'd taken a liking to the royal family from abroad.

Clearly, he must've been busy, or else not informed of their arrival, because Roman hadn't seen him yet and that was an unprecedented occasion.

The infirmary was light and airy (like most of Thomas's palace), stretching over several large halls in the west wing (Patton had told him that it was in order that they might get more sleep, as in the west wing the sun didn't shine directly into the palace until the late afternoon). Large windows provided abundant fresh air and sunlight for the patients, although there were, naturally, isolated sections for quarantine or any other occasion that might require a patient to be in a still environment. 

Roman tapped a young nurse on the shoulder: "Pardon me, miss?"

The nurse almost jumped off the chair she was sitting in. The scalpel she had been cleaning slipped out of her hands, barely missing her foot on the way down. "Your Highness!!" she exclaimed, standing up and curtsying in a hurry: "I was not aware you had arrived!"

"Only just, my dear." he sighed, "I presume Patton doesn't know we're here, either?"

"Oh no, your Highness." she shook her head. "He's been quite busy today and he hasn't spoken too much. There has been a nasty accident, you see."

"Oh." Roman frowned, "Well, I do hope it wasn't too serious."

"An accident at work." she specified, "A gardener fell from a ladder and there were some... complications due to an infection."

"I see…" he nodded, "Well, do you think it's safe to bother Patton right now?"

"Oh, certainly, sir." she confirmed, "I'm sure he'll be happy to see you. It's just that he wasn't expecting you so soon."

"We  _ are _ quite early this year." Roman admitted, "Well." he clapped his hands together, "Thank you so much, miss. I must be going."

He walked off before she had even finished her curtsey.

He found Patton in the third room. It was one of the most airy and open. His friend was sitting beside a bed, busily mixing something in a bowl, which, straining his neck, Roman could identify as a disinfectant mixture. He stopped for a moment to admire the way Patton's expert hands mixed and crushed and stirred with the confidence that only experienced doctors had. His friend looked goofy at any given time, with the sole exception of the workplace. There, he was truly at ease. He moved rapidly from one herb to the next, poured a little water in, rinse and repeat, over and over and over again.

He was so focused he didn’t even notice the young prince approaching until the gardener he was looking after bowed his head to greet him. “Your Highness.” the man greeted.

Patton seemed to snap out of a trance. He dropped the rag he was holding, no longer focused, and turned around to face him.

His confused face bloomed into a smile: “Roman!” 

“Good afternoon, my friend!” the prince greeted with an excessively dramatic bow, “I was just here wondering why you hadn’t come for tea!”

“Busy day.” the physician replied, “Give me a moment.”

“Of course.”

Patton raised his hand to get the attention of one of the nurses: “Emily!! Come on up here, kiddo!”

“I’m older than you.” the nurse grumbled, but complied.

The physician stood up to walk away with Roman.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come see you, kiddo.” Patton apologized, “We weren’t expecting you until this evening.”

“We left a little earlier than planned.” the prince nodded.

“That explains it, then!” Patton smiled.

“Will that man be alright?” Roman asked him, discreetly pointing behind him at the gardener.

“Emily is perfectly capable of nursing him to health!” cheered the physician: “Trust me, he’ll be just fine. We cleaned out all the wounds this morning, so all that’s left to do now it to check that he’s alright.”

“I’m delighted to hear it.”

“But how are you, Roman?” Patton asked him, “You must’ve been travelling through the night to get here so early.”

“We have.” he confirmed.

His friend frowned: “Did you get enough sleep?”

“According to Logan, yes. So did Remus.”

“That’s good to hear.”

He went silent. 

“Are you okay?” Roman inquired.

“Huh?” 

Patton seemed to snap out of a trance.

“Are you okay? You look a bit…” he framed his face vaguely, “...pale.”

“Oh.” 

The doctor nervously wiped his hands on his apron: “I’m alright, kiddo. You don’t need to worry.”

The wheels started turning in Roman’s head. That was an obvious lie, too. However, it would be stupid to address it right that second. Patton did not talk about things. If he was ever forced to, he would get very,  _ very  _ emotional and that never helped him in public. So he’d have to get him alone if he wanted to talk about it. But did he? He was most likely concerned about the same thing Thomas was. Thomas was very dear to him, after all. The two were practically in sync in terms of emotions: if one of them was worried about something, the other was likely feeling the exact same way. 

The obvious conclusion would be that he was nervous for the same reason as Thomas, so it would probably be best to shelf the topic until Damien arrived. 

“Alright then, if you say so.” he conceded.

He didn’t miss how Patton’s shoulders slumped in relief.

His hand trembled a little when he brought the pen to his diary.

_ May 27th _

_ Dear Diary, _

_ It is as I feared. There is indeed something terrible at work here. For fear of this diary being found, my dear, I cannot write it here. I can only whisper it to you.  _

_ There are guests coming, I’m afraid. I must be off. _

  
  


Dinner was truly, painfully awkward that night. By that point, everyone had caught on to the tense atmosphere of the palace and was reacting appropriately: namely, by eating as quietly as possible and avoiding eye contact at all costs. 

Roman was  _ not  _ happy with any part of that situation.

It was quiet, it was awkward, and Remus had won both the bet on the main course and the dessert. Which meant that Roman would have to go into the crypt at midnight; the silver lining was that, knowing him, Remus would definitely come along just because.

Before they could finish dinner, however, a clap of thunder distracted them from the prospect.

Roman groaned: “And to think it was so nice this morning.”

“That’s how summer storms are.” Logan pointed out, completely oblivious to the twins’ escape plans. 

Patton, sat beside an unusually quiet Thomas, looked out the window in concern: “I hope they get here soon…”

As though on cue, a page entered the dining room, tapping his cane on the floor twice.

“His Majesty, King Damien and His Highness, Prince Virgil of Asterion _. _ ” he announced.

The twins exchanged a quick look of excitement, craning their neck to glance at the door. 

First came Damien, kingly as ever, who gracefully greeted them with a bow of his head and a flick of his hand. He was wearing his usual yellows and blacks under the maroon cape that was draped across his shoulders. He extended a hand, clad in yellow, to a smaller figure just behind him. 

Roman’s heart jumped in his throat when a little gloved hand took it. The person’s cloak, still prickled with little droplets of rain, covered their face almost completely. He could just barely make out a thin neck and a round chin peeking out.

Damien leaned only slightly towards them.

“Virgil, your hood.” he whispered in what looked like fond exasperation.

It was clear to Roman that the Prince was uncomfortable even before he hesitantly reached a hand up to pull the hood off his face.

He could feel something in his gut melting.

_ Oh my god _ , he thought, when for the first time he laid his eyes upon Prince Virgil’s face.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *slides Medic!Patton and Prince!Virgil in your direction* Just gonna leave these here.  
> Remus is actually smart, fight me.
> 
> Posting schedule for now is Sunday and Wednesday (may change in the future) so uuuh...look forward to Sunday's chapter uwu
> 
> Let me know what you think :3
> 
> Next time: The twins get in trouble. What else is new?


	3. How to make friends: a guide by Prince Roman

His Royal Highness, Prince Virgil, was not anything like Roman had expected. But he was certainly something. His hair was not pushed back, nor to the side, as fashion would require; instead, it had slipped over his forehead. His clothes were dark, out of fashion, embroidered in silver instead of the bright gold that was expected of the heir to the throne of Asterion. And to top it off, he didn't look regal at all. He was expressly avoiding eye contact with any of them. His head was bowed and his shoulders were stiff and his legs were shaky.

Basically, very un-royal. If he’d seen him around, he probably wouldn’t have guessed he was a prince.

Prince Virgil took a little step back when Damien stepped forward. 

“I apologize for our… intrusion.” Damien chuckled. “I’m afraid the storm has delayed us.”

“It’s not a problem.” Thomas smiled.

Remus waved frantically at the king: “Hi Damien!! Did anyone get struck by lightning on the way here?”

“Remus, sit down.” Logan reprimanded, without so much as looking at his ward.

The duke rolled his eyes and sat back down.

Virgil seemed uncomfortable, Roman noticed. He also noticed he’d been staring at the prince the entire time. He felt it best to look away. Then, though, he felt a piercing gaze on him, an unfamiliar one. He knew the feeling of being watched, but he'd become sort of familiar with the many nuances of that feeling; how they changed depending on who was watching him. He called it his sixth sense.

He looked up, quickly, catching Prince Virgil staring at him.

For just one moment before Virgil looked away, their eyes met.

Roman kept his eyes on the prince throughout dinner. Unfortunately, the prince failed to do the same.

_ Rude. _

_ How am I supposed to wink at him if he's not looking at me? _

It was utterly ridiculous that this guy was refusing to acknowledge his majestic presence. Frankly embarrassing.

The whole dinner passed without the prince so much as glancing at him (or anyone that wasn't Damien, for that matter).

It was only when they left the room, ready to retire to their respective chambers, that he caught the quickest glance from Virgil.

He smiled to himself.

_ I'll take it _ .

  
  


_ May 27th _

_ Dear Diary, _

_ I lost a bet to Remus.  _

_ Tonight, we shall be off to the crypt. _

_ On a different note, I think you should know about the guests I mentioned earlier. You remember Damien, I’m sure, as he has space in your pages, but he has not come alone this time. His little cousin, who I’m sure is quite close to me in age, is here as well. _

_ He is a peculiar boy, I would say. I cannot be sure. I will update you as soon as I can. _

_ Remus will be here soon. _

  
  


Remus came knocking at exactly 11:53pm. One knock, then a pause, then four knocks, then a pause, then one again. Roman, still fully dressed, slipped out from under the covers and to the door, grabbing his sword on the way out. 

“Let’s take the back door this time.” Remus suggested, quietly.

He nodded. 

It was a longer way from the back door on the western side to the church, but they were definitely less likely to be caught.

“Keep up!” Remus hissed, speeding up to round a corner, as you do, where he almost knocked over the poor servant that was trying to hide in a room. Except...it wasn’t a servant. In front of them was the pale face of prince Virgil.

The twins stared quietly at the prince.

It was Remus who broke the silence: "We won't tell if you don't."

Remus slipped through the iron bars of the fence easily, holding his breath to make his chest as small as possible.

“Showoff.” Roman mumbled, climbing on top of the fence and down the other side instead. Remus was good at twisting and squeezing his body through small openings. He’d always seemed to feel comfortable in tiny spaces; thus giving every maid and page in the castle reason to be cautious when they opened a cupboard or a closet, or looked under a bed, or literally anywhere that was even slightly big enough for a teenager to slide in.

He looked back at Virgil on the other side of the fence. Instead of squeezing through the gate or climbing over the tall grate, he’d spotted a small space between the massive hedge on the side and the bars and was currently trying to get out from there. Probably the most practical, least flashy solution.

“Huh.” Roman commented, out loud, as Virgil caught up to them. Remus had  _ convinced _ (forced) the poor soul to join them, because  _ the night air was good for him _ . Honestly, he’d been doomed the moment he’d crossed paths with his psycho of a twin brother.

“What?” the prince huffed, “If I break my arm they’ll find out I was here. I'll never hear the end of it…" he mumbled.

“True.” Remus admitted, “But they’ll also find us if we don’t hurry up and get out of here.”

He grinned at his brother and Virgil: “Race you to the church.”

And then he took off running, barefoot on the grass, still in his sleepwear and thus very much underdressed.

_ If we catch pneumonia again, I will punch him with my own weak and sickly arms _ , Roman thought, sprinting after him. At least Roman had shoes.

The crypt wasn’t that scary in daytime. It was just a tiny room under the old church that was a little colder than the others and had dead people in it; nothing special, no gruesome history or old legends attached. But at night? The old doors’ creaking hinges would break the silence and suddenly he’d feel sixty years older. So Roman was just a little nervous heading down the narrow gravel path to the old church down the road, although that was partially due to the fact that they’d pissed off the deacon (and Logan) one too many times with their little nightly adventures.

“Keep up!” Remus giggled quietly, practically dragging poor Virgil by the shoulders.

“I’m just trying to be quiet.” he whispered back. Virgil looked somewhere between terrified, annoyed and intrigued. His eyes were fixed on the silent belltower that was just starting to poke out of the darkness. 

_ Right. _

_ He’s never been here. _

The prince hadn’t said anything on the way there and honestly, Roman was kind of scared to tell him that they’d be going down into the crypt. But hey, Virgil could always wait outside if he wanted to; this was supposed to be Roman’s adventure anyway… yeah, that’s what he would have said if he hadn’t known Remus, but he did know him, and he knew perfectly well that his brother’s new friends couldn’t escape the rite of passage that were their nightly expeditions. Pity. 

The door to the chapel creaked loudly when they opened it and Remus giggled.

"We should bring some oil next time. Do some charity work, you know?" he suggested, slipping into the chapel and giving the  _ all clear _ .

"I think the dean would prefer we did that during the day." Roman shrugged.

He cast a glance at Virgil, who was already a few steps ahead. His eyes were fixed on the beautiful mural painting that covered the inside of the dome: a depiction of heaven, the deacon had told them, with angels chasing the clouds and saints looking down upon the earth with loving stares. Roman had always found it reassuring, how the saints' affectionate eyes never changed. It made him feel like there really was someone up there who loved him, which was pretty rare otherwise considering their history. 

His lips tugged upward a bit. At least this new prince had good taste in  _ something _ . Not fashion-wise, unfortunately, but that could be fixed. He couldn't draw his eyes away from Virgil in time for him to not notice him staring. 

"What?" the prince huffed, defensively.

_ He saw me _ .

_ Play it cool _ .

"Oh, I was merely staring at your impressive fashion choices. Did you pick that out in the dark?" Roman smirked.

_ Nailed it _ .

Virgil didn't seem to take much offense, but that didn't mean he took it lying down: "Yes. Did you? You look like a lighthouse, so I'm sure it wasn't too difficult."

Roman sucked in a sharp breath.  _ Ouch _ . Still, he wasn't going to let the vampire have the last word: "So I shine! Thank you, I try."

"I'm sure you do."

"What are you implying, your Brightness?" 

"Are you guys done?" 

Their heads snapped to the side when Remus chimed in. He gave them an unimpressed look from the doors to the crypt, which now hung open beside him. He sighed, resting his arm against the altar: "Well, Roman. You know what to do."

Roman exhaled, trying to shift his growing nervousness to resemble indignation: "Of course I do!"

Virgil raised an eyebrow at Remus questioningly.

"Roman lost a bet." the duke promptly explained, "So he has to go into the crypt. And because I'm a wonderful brother, I'll go in too. But he goes first."

"Ah." Virgil nodded in acknowledgement: "Do...do you do this often?"

"Oh yeah, all the time." Remus assured him: "The crypt...well, it's creepy. And sometimes there are spiders down there. But me and Roman…" he waved his hand in a careless gesture: "...we don't mind creepy."

"Speak for yourself, Monsieur Macabre." Roman scoffed, tugging at his cuffs to fix them as he headed towards the crypt's marble door.

Virgil had a tiny glint of interest in his eyes: "Can I come in too?"

"I'm sure Roman would appreciate that." Remus nodded, cackling quietly when his brother glared at him. He did  _ not  _ need any of Remus’s shenanigans at that moment.

“Good.” the dark prince nodded.

Roman was officially outnumbered. 

With an indignant scoff, he pushed past the traitors and stepped into the crypt.

The crypt wasn’t a big room, because it had never been expanded beyond the first few generations of the royal family; they had stopped burying people there a long time before Thomas was even born. That didn’t make it any less creepy, unfortunately.

Roman crouched a bit to avoid a huge spider web.

_ I hope they run right into it _ .

They didn’t, sadly, and Virgil was all but scared of the giant spider that had made the web. In fact, he looked fascinated. Weirdo.

“You like spiders?” he questioned, raising his brow at the prince. 

“What of it?” Virgil didn’t even take his eyes off the spider, “I’ve never seen this species in my kingdom.”

Roman scoffed. “You’re a strange one.” he mumbled. It was quiet, but not quiet enough, judging by the glare the prince shot him. 

But that was the least of his problems, because a quick headcount told him that Remus had not, in fact, entered the crypt after them. 

He turned towards the door just in time to see it slam shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never make your psycho of a twin brother the third wheel. Sincerely, a third wheel  
> And yes, I do have fun giving the boys zingers.  
> Comments make my day :3
> 
> Next time: How to make friends. For real this time.


	4. How to prank your new friend: a guide by His Grace the Duke of Estirith

It took Roman a few seconds to process what had just happened. 

Virgil was quicker to react. He ran up to the door and tried to pry it open with his fingers, as there was no handle on the inside of the door. No success there. He cursed under his breath, clawing at the tiny gap between the doors once again. Roman joined him by the door. 

“Haha.” he mocked, “Hilarious. Come on, Remus. If the deacon finds us in here, I  _ will _ tattle on you.”

Only the quiet whistle of the wind through the gap answered him. 

Roman’s lips pressed into a thin line. 

“Move.” he commanded, pushing past Virgil. The prince scowled, but remained silent, watching him press up against the door and attempt to open it himself. 

“Remus, open the door.” he grunted, pulling at a small crack in one of the doors before bringing his eye to it. The silent statues of angels smiled at him from beside the front door, but no one of flesh and bone was there. “Remus?” he called again. No answer.

Roman’s throat tightened.

Normally, Remus pranking him and locking him in would have been the worst case scenario by far. But this was not a normal situation. Maybe Damien had a point in being worried for their safety, maybe there really was something dangerous waiting for them; in which case, the best case scenario would be waking up the next morning to the deacon’s disappointed stare. Worst case scenario, they were trapped in a small room, Remus was missing, and there was a killer outside who was potentially responsible. He just barely heard Virgil’s sharp breathing behind him. 

Roman felt his own breath hitch. Before he could stop himself, he’d pounded his fist against the wooden door. Virgil flinched.

“Remus!!” he yelled, “This isn’t funny!”

No one answered. 

He bit his lip.

“ **Remus** !!!” 

He hit the door again. 

“Remus, it’s not funny!! Open the door!!”

His hand fell limp at his side. No one answered. He pressed his face to the door again. 

“Remus?” he called, softly this time. “Where are you? Come on…”

He couldn’t hear Virgil anymore over his own panicked breathing. He could see him, however, when he moved to sit against a pillar behind him, just in the corner of his field of vision.

He clenched his fist, taking in a deep breath.

_ Don’t let the vampire know you’re scared. _

_ Or Remus, if he’s still out there. _

_ If he can hear you. _

Once he felt the tension in his face fade enough to look collected, he turned to face the prince. He was curled up against the pillar, hugging his knees. He couldn't see his face, but his shoulders shuddered with sharp, irregular breaths. Roman raised his brow. That couldn't be good. 

He knelt in front of him, slowly.

"Are you alright?" he asked, reaching out to touch the boy's shoulder.

It didn't have the intended effect.

The prince's head snapped up with a start and Roman could finally see his eyes and oh… they didn't look good. He looked like a deer seeing a rifle a moment before it fired. Were those tears that made his eyes twinkle like that?

“Hey, are you alright?” he repeated.

The prince bit his lip maybe a little too hard.

“Damien’s gonna kill me.” he whispered. His voice cracked. 

Roman raised his brow. What to say? He settled for the thought that he used to reassure himself when he was afraid of being caught: “He won’t even know you left your room.”

“I hadn’t been allowed to leave my room in way too long…” Virgil mumbled, almost embarrassed. Roman frowned. “Why?”

“Hell if I know!” he snapped, and Roman flinched. He hadn’t taken him for the swearing type. 

“He’s been acting so weird, and he hasn’t let me be alone for more than five minutes in a month.” Virgil added, looking about as salty as humanly possible. 

Roman paused. Was he not aware of the whole  _ assassins _ thing? Or was he not concerned about it? That seemed unlikely, seeing as how he was definitely concerned about a lot of things. And now Roman was in an awkward spot, because hey, he wasn’t supposed to know about it either. So Damien was keeping a secret. Maybe it was better to keep it that way, he decided.

“I don’t know.” he said, “Maybe there’s a good reason for it?” he suggested, hoping to God that Virgil didn’t see through him.

“If it’s such a good reason, I sure wish he’d tell me what it is.” the prince mumbled.

The gears in Roman’s brain started turning once again. No use giving poor Damien a heart attack if they were fine, right? So they should probably get the hell out of there.

"Alright, get up." he sighed, offering his hand.

Virgil raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

“We’re getting out of here.”

"Look, I agree.” the prince nodded, “But how? We tried the door.” His eyes widened: “You’re not gonna break it down… right?” 

“No!” Roman scoffed: “I won’t be caught because I can’t think of something better. There are windows.”

“Windows?”

“Yeah. They’re more like holes for air but we should be able to fit through…” he pondered. He looked Virgil’s unimposing frame up and down: “Well, you should, anyway.”

The kid narrowed his eyes: “What’s that supposed to mean?”

"Nothing at all, my darling stormcloud." Roman shrugged, evaluating the tiny windows of the crypt. They'd have to climb and crawl out, seeing how high and small they were. 

Roman jumped to grab the edge, then heaved himself up through the tiny window, crawling a few feet forward on the grass. The night air was a blessing.

He turned back to the crypt: "Can you reach?"

Virgil didn’t say anything, but his pathetic attempts were answer enough. 

Roman stifled a laugh, kneeling at the foot of the church to give him a hand up.

Remus was waiting outside the door to the church, the little bastard. "So, had fun?" he asked with a grin that had no business being that smug.

"No thanks to you." growled Roman, "Were you ever going to let us out?"

"Of course I was. Eventually."

"Well, I wasn't going to take that chance!" he announced, striding off towards the palace with a rather un-regal glare at his brother. He heard him giggling as his companions ran after him in the grass. Huffing in discontent, he cranked his pace up to a sprint to lose them.

“Hey, wait for us!!” Virgil complained, breathlessly.

He was not used to running, apparently. That may be good, or not, depending on the situation. 

The grass rustled under his feet. He frowned. His clothes felt wet and uncomfortable from crawling on dewy ground on his belly. He made a mental note to get them washed before Logan could see them and figure out they’d gone on one of their escapades on the  _ first _ day of their vacation.

Somehow, he’d managed to forget that he and Remus had pretty much planned the whole thing in front of their tutor.

He remembered, however, when they quietly opened the door to the back kitchen and almost toppled over from a heart attack at the sudden strike of a match. Logan calmly lit the candle beside him as Roman held his erratic breath. Any pathetic hope that he may not have noticed them was immediately shattered when he lifted his piercing gaze to the three boys panting in the doorway.

“Welcome back.” he simply said, staring the three of them up and down. “Welcome back, your Highness.” he added, bowing his head at Virgil. The poor boy looked about five shades whiter, two shades bluer and one shade greener than before. Roman was nothing if not chivalrous, lucky for him, so he took a collected step forward to put on his best  _ talk you out of trouble  _ face. He’d been practicing. Maybe this time it would actually work on his stoic tutor.

Fleeting hope, but hope regardless.

“We can explain.” he started.

“You should.” Logan nodded, “People are looking for you.”

“People are  _ what _ ?” Virgil wheezed.

Okay, that hadn’t been a great idea.

“If I may…” Logan interjected, “I would suggest you go back as soon as possible. I’m not worried about you two, but…”

Virgil lost a couple more shades of pink: “Damien.”

Logan simply nodded. 

Mumbling a greeting and several apologies, the prince pushed past them to return to the palace. He stumbled into a table on the way out.

With the muffled rhythm of his footsteps slowly fading, silence fell in the kitchen.

“That’s gonna leave a bruise.” Remus joked.

Logan gave a long sigh, fixing his glasses. “Sit down.” he said.

And so they did, because arguing with their poor, long-suffering tutor was completely useless. 

“How many times have you done this now?”

The twins shared a glance. 

“Twenty-seven, at the very least.” Logan continued, “Although I’m sure there have been times I haven’t caught you.”

“We’re soooorry…” Remus mocked.

The regent raised his hand in a  _ hold on _ gesture. “I’m going to give you a final warning.” he said, “Do  _ not _ drag the prince into any more of your escapades, and do  _ not  _ make any more nighttime trips, or I will have to intervene.”

He leaned in closer when Remus scoffed. “Listen…” he murmured, with a note of sincerity in his voice: “Now is not the right time. You’re not safe. I will not always be here to lecture you, but that doesn’t make the lectures any less relevant.”

Roman felt a shiver crawling up his spine. 

“I’ll let this one slide.” Logan sighed, standing from his chair, “But if I catch you one more time, I will make sure it doesn’t happen again. Is that clear?”

“Crystal.” Roman nodded.

He couldn’t go back to sleep that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Logan is actually a drama queen, don't @ me.  
> Remus is still my beautiful trash boy and I love him.  
> Roman is actually a softie and I will fight you on that.  
> Virgil can overshare as much as anyone else and I love him dearly.
> 
> That is all, goodnight everybody.
> 
> Leave a comment because why not? :3
> 
> Next time: More obvious hints that I love the creativitwins.


	5. Emergency doesn't mean not having fun

Breakfast was probably the most awkward it had ever been in the seventeen plus years of his life. 

Roman was, once again, placed right in front of Virgil. And it may have been the worst place to be. Damien and Virgil wouldn’t even look at each other, so the gloomy prince was even less sociable than he’d been before, safe for a few glares in the twins’ direction. Roman didn’t  _ dare _ ask Virgil what had happened. Remus, though…

He exchanged a look with his brother. 

_ Don’t say anything _ .

Remus grinned.

_ You can’t stop me _ . 

Thankfully, he was interrupted when Thomas stood from his seat.

“I’m really sorry…” he sighed, “...but I have to leave before tomorrow.”

“What? Why??” Roman inquired, “Is something wrong?”

“I don’t know…” Thomas admitted, “I received an urgent letter from my mother. It's best if I go. But I promise I'll be back for your birthday!!" he hurriedly added.

"It's not a problem, Thomas." Roman shrugged. 

"Yeah!" his brother echoed, "Don't sweat it, Possum. We'll save you a slice of cake, provided that we can agree on the flavour."

The young king gave a half smile.

Roman shot Virgil a quick glance.

_ Have you accepted the apology yet? _

The prince was looking at Thomas, so no luck there. 

"Who will rule in your absence?" Damien inquired.

"My advisor. He knows of this, he'll be here soon." Thomas assured him.

They wished him good luck.

And so that afternoon, Thomas left the kingdom.

"What do you think that was about?" were the first words Remus said to him as soon as they were back in their little common room.

"I don't know." he admitted. "Thomas seems tense."

"I  _ know _ , right?" his brother mumbled, stuffing half a banana in his mouth in one go, "Waff'up wif 'im?"

"Maybe he's just tired." Roman offered, "You know how he gets when he's sleep deprived."

"Oh yeah." Remus agreed, "But I feel like there's somethin' else, you know?"

"I don't know, Remus."

"Maybe he's got a lover."

" **Remus** !!"

"Whaaaat? You know crushes drain him."

Roman tapped his fingers on the windowsill. "I don't know."

"You keep saying that." Remus observed, "Almost as if you  _ did _ know something…"

"Don't be stupid." he snapped.

"That's not an easy task for me, Ro."

Roman scoffed, but remained silent otherwise.

"Come on." Remus continued, crawling across the couch to reach him: "You'd best have the thing out at once."

"You talk like a dentist." he mumbled.

"Then allow me to rip this rotten tooth out!! Unless, of course… you'd prefer to rip it out yourself?"

Roman blinked. "That's a disturbing analogy." 

"Pleasant metaphors aren't really my strong suit. Now tell me." 

Remus crossed his arms as he sat down to listen.

Well, he wouldn't leave until he got what he wanted, that much was obvious.

"I can't tell you." he tried.

"Says who?"

"Thomas."

Remus looked almost offended: "That fucker!!"

" **Remus** !!"

"Sorry, this is how I show affection. Anyway, spit it out. Come on."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I  _ value _ promises, Remus. You goblin."

“And so do I!!” his twin laughed, “But you and I are basically the same person.”

“What??” Roman scoffed: “That’s ridiculous. We are not the same. We’re not even similar.”

Remus sighed. He sprawled out on the ground, staring at the frescos on the ceiling. He looked disappointed, almost offended by Roman’s refusal to tell him what was going on. That wouldn’t stop him, and they both knew it. He would find out on his own, if necessary: ask someone else, snoop around, logic his way out of it. Roman knew his brother, and his brother was ridiculous, but  _ not _ stupid.

So, his only options were to tell him the truth, or risk him snooping where he shouldn’t have.

Roman took in a long, sharp breath.

“Sit down, Remus. And if any of this gets out, I will strangle you.”

Remus dragged himself to the chair with a smug grin. 

“I’m all ears.”

It wasn’t until that evening that Roman managed to find the elusive prince of Asterion, sulking in an isolated corner of the library with a book so heavy that he wondered how that frail-looking prince with those terrific bags under his eyes had managed to carry it alone. Roman crept along the shelves. By the time Virgil noticed him it was too late for him to slide out of his seat and pretend he hadn’t seen Roman approaching. That didn’t mean he was nice about it.

“What do you want?” he hissed.

Roman raised his arms in a pacifying gesture: “Relax, Dracula. I’ve come to extend an olive branch.”

“I hate olives.”

“Oh, you know what I meant!!” he scoffed, “What’s the matter with you? First time you got in trouble? Get in line.”

That may not have been the best approach, he realized a second too late. Virgil’s face twisted with anger.

“ _ Get in trouble _ doesn’t really cover it, your Highness.” he spat, slamming the book closed. Roman flinched.

“And it’s sure as hell not the first time.” he continued, “So maybe you should back off and go back to your adventures. That’s what you want, right?”

He stood up so abruptly that the back of his chair knocked on the bookshelf behind him, attempting to shove his book back in its rightful place. As it turned out, it really was too heavy for him to carry safely. The book slipped out of his grip, narrowly missing Roman’s foot on the way down and landing with a heavy thump. 

The library fell completely silent. 

Roman raised his hand slightly as he slowly leaned down to grab the fallen book, like he was approaching a dragon while covered in gold.

_ Don't worry about it _ .

He placed it back on the shelf with little effort, glancing back and forth between his hands and Virgil's embarrassed face.

"I'm sorry I lashed out." the prince apologized.

"It's okay."

"I'm just…" he sighed, scratching the back of his head, "...a little tense, I guess."

Roman pointed to the chairs behind him: "Do you mind if we... sit down and talk for a moment?"

Virgil looked like he'd been splashed with cold water but, perhaps feeling indebted to him, he complied.

There was a moment of silence as he waited for Roman to find the right words.

"Look…" he started, "Remus and I shouldn't have dragged you along, and that's on us. But why are you so upset?"

Virgil frowned, so he hurried to make a correction: "Because, I mean, it's pretty obvious there's something else. I've never seen anyone get so upset over a little escapade."

The prince took a moment to ponder his answer. 

"Damien and I had a fight." he finally admitted. His shoulders slumped slightly as he released the tense posture he'd been keeping. "And it wasn't… I mean… we said some pretty bad things. And early this morning he tried to act like nothing happened, and I don't care for that. I just…" he sighed, "I guess I wanted him to apologize. Hell,  _ I  _ wanted to apologize, I said some things that I… that just… it disgusts me to think that I held them against him. But he still won't tell me what's happening, and I can't help but resent him for that."

Roman frowned: "What do you suspect is going on? I mean… maybe he can't tell you."

"That's what I thought." Virgil nodded, "But the more I dig, the less I find, and that's kind of getting on my nerves. I don't know what's happening. I just know he's scared of something and I wish he'd get his head out of the sand and realize that it would probably be better for the both of us if I was informed of it."

Roman kept silent. He didn't know what to make of it.

"Have you tried talking to him about yesterday?" he inquired.

"Yes. This morning. He evaded the subject completely and he's been avoiding me all day. That's the only reason I managed to get some alone time." he mumbled, clearly salty.

"Hm…"

"Anyway…" Virgil concluded with a sigh, standing from his chair, "I'd better go. I talked way too much."

"Oh, don't be absurd, my darling stormcloud." Roman teased, "I could listen to you all day."

"That's a lie and we both know it." scoffed Virgil, though there was a hint of amusement in his voice this time. "Goodbye, Sir Sing-a-lot. You're not a complete moron."

_ Oooh, creative nickname. I like it _ .

"Goodbye, my dark and stormy knight." he sighed, waving dramatically at him, "You are barely tolerable."

"Good to know!" Virgil exclaimed, disappearing behind the bookcase. He had the trace of a smile on his lips.

Roman smiled too.

_ Maybe he's not so bad _ , he thought, as he headed off to his chambers.

As he passed Damien's room, he heard the muffled sound of pleasant conversation.

_ I did something good today. _

He slept soundly that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said this was gonna be a slow burn but I didn't say anything about chemistry owo  
> And yes, Roman did just quote Jane Austen.  
> And yes indeed, Remus does swear.  
> I'm sorry for anyone who wanted to seem more Thomas, but um writing real people gives me hives and I can only do it for so long.
> 
> Let me know what you think (yes you can yell at me and if you catch any references you have the right to a cookie. Please catch the references. I like them.)
> 
> Next time: That cuteness you ordered has arrived.


	6. The portrait of Prince Virgil

Virgil didn’t avoid him or glare at him the next day, though he seemed reasonably wary of his brother after witnessing his madness. In fact, the next day was the first time he sought Roman out.

“Hello.” he greeted, sitting next to Roman as he sketched out a view of the garden from a window.

"Good morning, my darling vampire. Your nightly adventures have been pleasant, I take it?" he teased, adding a flock of birds to the top left corner of the page.

"Those weren't there." Virgil observed.

"I take some creative liberties in my drawings. What is there to that?"

"Nothing wrong." the prince answered, shifting his weight from one side to the other to lean against the window: "But if I look at your drawings, I will not know what is real and what isn't, will I?"

Roman chuckled.

"You can always ask me."

"Where's the fun in that?" Virgil smiled, "Mystery is the highest form of entertainment. And the strangest."

That was interesting, Roman decided. But…

"What do you mean?"

"I mean…" Virgil scratched the back of his head, "Isn't it weird how nearly every fear comes from the unknown, and yet… mystery fascinates us so much? It's paradoxical. The source of all our anxieties is insecurity, but without insecurity, our life becomes unbearably boring. Unpredictability is exciting, but it can be the death of us, too. Like I said, one big paradox."

The hall went silent.

"I… uh…" Roman blinked, "That's...nice. I didn't take you for the philosophical type."

_ Well, now I feel kinda awkward _ .

_ Logan would have a field day with this boy _ , he pondered.

Virgil's face went just a little bit pinker: "I'm not. I just... overthink things. A lot."

"Why, my dear Virgil, that is the basis of philosophy." Roman chuckled.

"Well, I'm not a philosopher." he insisted.

"Mmm...not yet."

"I have no intention of becoming one, either. Philosophers are so pretentious sometimes." Virgil mumbled.

"Watch your mouth, my dear fellow. My beloved tutor happens to dabble in philosophy quite often." Roman warned, sneakily turning the page over on his sketchbook and angling it so that Virgil couldn't see what he was drawing.

He started from the basic shape, as always. One line down the middle, two circles formed the head, two thin lines ran across the midsection in place of arms, cross the head to mark the features... 

Then he started working on a summary line of contouring around his skeletal sketch. First, the neck. Then the shoulders. Then the chest, the arms, and the midsection, which was too big to fit entirely on the page and had to stop just above the waist. He pointed the chin slightly. Now to work on the details…

"This is a beautiful garden." Virgil commented, probably to break the silence.

Roman raised his eyes from the sketch to memorize the placement of the buttons on his jacket: "Mhm. It's a shame Thomas left before he could give you the tour. Although…"

He paused, for dramatic effect.

"Although?" 

My, the boy was impatient.

"Although…" Roman said, "I know this place like the back of my hand. I wouldn't be opposed to…" he gestured frivolously with the pencil in his left hand, "...being someone's guide, provided they asked me nicely of course."

Virgil made a noise in the back of his throat, halfway between a laugh and a groan.

"In fact…" he added, trying to get the eyes right, "...now would be a perfect time to ask."

“And what if they didn’t ask?”

“Humour me.” 

Virgil’s lips tugged just slightly upward. The pencil made a graceful swish on the page.

“Fine, your Annoying Highness.” Virgil conceded, ignoring his offended gasp, “Will you be my guide to this palace?”

Roman took a deep, dramatic breath. 

“If you insist.”

The sketch was finished before the conversation had ended, but he’d put it away so casually that Virgil hadn’t even noticed. Neither of them brought up the sketch on the way to the garden. 

“So…” Virgil started, once they reached the front gate, “How big is this garden, exactly?"

"Well, you saw some of it the other night, that's the west wing, but the east wing is where they grow medicinal plants, fruits, vegetables…"

"So, big."

"Quite big."

Virgil gaped at the arch of thorny vines that led to the rose garden: "That's a lot of roses."

"Indeed." Roman nodded, "And I should warn you that this is my favourite place in this entire area. By extension, it is not a good place to come if you want to be alone."

"Dammit."

Roman laughed.

"Those look like you." Virgil said, pointing at the white, red-stained roses hidden just beside the arch.

"Beautiful?" Roman smirked.

"No, creepy."

He  _ gasped _ .

"I'm joking. I don’t mind creepy.” 

Roman huffed. “That’s what I thought.”

“What are you insinuating?”

“Nothing at all, my vampiric friend.”

Virgil scoffed, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. The small fountain at the center of the rose garden was, coincidentally, just big enough for one or two people to sit on the edge, and Roman was definitely not going to pass that up. It was just about the best place to sit in the summer, when small sprays of cool water could be carried by the wind to his poor heat-stricken head without making him look ill-mannered. He could already feel it on the back of his neck.

“Virgil, dear!!” he called, waving his arm at him. Nevermind that he was barely ten feet away.

“What?” 

“Are you feeling okay with all that black you’re wearing? I feel like your brain should be hard boiled by now.” he beckoned, fanning himself with his hand, “Come sit with me, it’s much more pleasant over here.”

“We really haven’t been walking for that long.” Virgil pointed out as he sat next to him. 

“No matter.”

The gurgling of the water behind them created a comfortable almost-silence between the two as they took in the scenery. Red, pink, yellow, white roses all around them, with their scents that were just different enough and just similar enough to create a pleasant harmony of natural perfume in the garden, which was only enhanced by the water that caressed the back of their necks. Roman had never been in a bad mood sitting in that spot in the tender heat of May. In fact, he felt utterly gleeful at that moment, having broken the dark prince out of his shell. He liked the strange little thing, he thought with a half smile. For the same reason he had so quickly grown attached to Logan as a child, for the same reason he’d befriended Patton as a teenager, for the same reason he still enjoyed spending time with his crazy,  _ only slightly older  _ brother: they all talked back. None of them were the subservient type, although their approach to authority, affection and morality varied wildly between the four of them. Patton, for example, was mostly compliant, however, he was perfectly capable of breaking every single law in existence, should it work against his moral code for him to comply. That had unfortunately gotten him into a spot of trouble occasionally, but then again, he  _ was  _ friends with the king. And the prince, and the duke, and the king regent… he was fine. 

And speaking of the king regent...Logan. Unexpected agent of chaos. Probably Remus’s fault. 

“I talked to Damien.” Virgil started, all of a sudden. 

_ I know _ , he almost answered, but held back. “How did it go?” he asked, instead.

“Better than I expected. Not...great, admittedly, but not terrible.”

“Huh.”

“I mean, I got what I wanted. He explained himself.” 

Roman’s head snapped towards him: “Wait, really?” 

Had Damien come clean? Virgil didn’t seem too disturbed by the idea of someone out for his and/or Damien's blood, somehow.

“Yeah.” Virgil nodded, “I should’ve known, honestly.”

Roman raised an eyebrow: “Has it happened before?”

“Not on this scale. Usually it’s just a matter of taking some precautions.” he shrugged.

“Huh. So...why is this time different?”

“I don’t know.” he admitted, “As far as I can tell, he’s nervous about the new environment. I haven’t been out of the country much. And, you know, he gets a little overprotective sometimes.”

“Ah. Why is that, you think?” Roman inquired.

“Ugh…” Virgil groaned, “Probably my health. My immunitary system hates me. I’ve had an impressive bouquet of childhood illnesses and trust me, Damien does  _ not  _ let me forget that. Even now. Seriously, I haven’t even heard about this illness he keeps talking about, I mean, shouldn’t there be more concern if it was really that easy to ca-”

“Wait!!” Roman interrupted, “Wait, wait, wait. What illness are you talking about, exactly?”

“Uh…”

It was a can of worms he wasn’t going to open just yet, so he immediately corrected himself: “I have just arrived, I’m afraid. I have not been informed of any epidemics, but then again, I do have the blessing of tremendously good health.”

“Well... “ Virgil scratched the back of his head again. It was kind of adorable, really. “Some branch of pneumonia, he said. And it’s hotter where we come from, and it was raining when we got here, and basically none of this is in my favour. That’s also why I’m not allowed anywhere near the infirmary.” 

Roman took a moment to think about what to say. So Damien had blatantly lied. Which was a lot more suspicious than simply not telling the truth. But he wasn’t going to be the one to open  _ that  _ discussion: he was not prepared to deal with Damien’s glares for a whole week.

“Roman?” he heard the prince calling. 

He turned back to Virgil with a smile: “Oh, I must have spaced out. I was just worried that Remus will catch it too, because then I can guarantee you that I will be ill in the space of hours.”

“Huh. Twin misfortune?” Virgil guessed.

“Not according to Logan. He thinks it’s just the amount of time we spend together.”

“Makes sense.”

“And also…” Roman added, “Remus has eaten everything he’s come across at some point. He should be immune to every ailment and poison imaginable by now, so if  _ he _ gets sick…”

“Oh… yeah, that makes sense too.” Virgil mumbled.

Roman didn’t know when he’d started to sweat, but he didn’t think it appropriate to let Virgil see what his traitorous glands were capable of.

“Well, my friend, it has been a pleasure to show you around, but I must be off.” he apologized, standing from the edge of the fountain.

Virgil looked confused: “Wait, now? But we’ve barely seen anything yet…”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I’m afraid I forgot about my lessons.”

“Lessons? I thought you were on vacation!”

“There is no such thing as a week free of lessons with Logan, my dear.” Roman chuckled, “But I swear on my life that I will finish the tour tomorrow.”

Virgil looked surprisingly disappointed, but he didn’t object. It was almost heartwarming. 

“I’ll see you at dinner.” Roman promised.

The setting sun turned Virgil’s hair a reddish tint.

It wouldn’t be long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PET NAMES I LOVE PET NAMES, CAN YOU TELL?  
> No Remus today but don't worry, don't worry. u.u
> 
> Let me know what you think. References earn a cookie.
> 
> Next time: Roman tries to figure it out.


	7. There's something about Damien

He hadn’t actually gone to Logan. He didn’t even  _ have  _ a lesson planned for that day. Such was the Birthday Week Agreement that had been stipulated the very same year that he had become their tutor. The entire week leading up to June 4 was to be completely free of lessons. Logan usually took the break as an opportunity to catch up on his own studies and draft a program for the following month or so. Nerd.

He knew for a fact that Logan was at the peak of concentration at that moment and to disturb him would be a death sentence. So he headed off towards the infirmary instead.

The whole place was bathed in a surreal orange glow: it snuck through the curtains and fluttered against the white sheets on the infirmary beds. Most of the patients seemed to be busy with their simple dinner, but that was alright. Roman wasn’t going to disturb any of them. Well, except for the man currently being helped by Patton, that is.

He might’ve startled the poor patient with the rough determination in his step, because he flinched slightly as soon as he spotted Roman. Patton’s head snapped back with inordinate concern and his arm flew out as though to shield his patient. Roman forced his itchy feet to slow down, raising his hand in what was supposed to be a polite greeting but looked more like he was going to slap his own perfect face. Or Patton’s. 

He put on his best nervous smile (pretty close to hysterical, as it turned out) as he approached his friend: “Hey Pat!” he greeted.

Patton raised his brow. His arm slowly fell back at his side: “Um...hey kiddo. Are you alright?”

“Yes!!” he exclaimed maybe a little too enthusiastically: “Yes, yes, yes. Everything is peachy. I’m alright. On a completely unrelated note, Pat, do you have a minute?”

Patton exchanged a worried look with his patient. 

“I think I should try to eat the rest on my own, doctor.” the man told him.

Patton seemed somewhat relieved, but his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes when he asked him if he was sure he didn’t need help. The patient insisted, though, so they could finally leave. 

“What’s the matter?” Patton asked him as soon as they were alone, in the dying light that flooded the corridor, “You look a little…”

“Yes, yes. I know.” he interrupted: “Look, Patton, I have a moral dilemma to solve here and I know you’re the man for the job. Yes? Good. Help me out here.” 

It took the poor doctor a while to process what he’d said.

“What kind of moral dilemma?” he inquired as soon as he’d gathered his wits. 

Roman took a moment to find the right words to explain himself without actually explaining himself. “What would you do if you knew someone was lying to your friend? About something really important? A life-or-death kind of thing.”

“Well… that has a lot of variables, Roman. I’m going to need more detail than that…”

“What if it was something that could save that person’s life? What if something happened to them because neither of you told them the secret?”

Patton stopped to think. “Roman, can you think of any reasons why such an important thing would be a secret? Does that  _ someone _ you mentioned have a grudge against the other person or something?”

“What?? No! No, the someone is a friend of the other person, too.”

“That complicates things…” Patton lamented.

“I know…” Roman sighed, “That’s why I want a second opinion.”

“Well, what is your  _ first  _ opinion?”

That made him stop and think. What  _ was _ his opinion? He had no idea what to do. 

“I don’t know.” he admitted. “I don’t know, Padre. I mean, I don’t know them enough. Maybe there’s more than meets the eye here. Maybe if I tell the secret I’ll make things worse.”

“I don’t know, Roman.” Patton smiled apologetically, “Morality isn’t a simple thing. If you don't feel like you know the person well enough to make decisions for them, maybe you should just talk it out with them. Sometimes it's surprisingly easy to talk. Even if getting the ball rolling is hard…" he mumbled, shifting his gaze to the distant horizon.

Roman clapped him on the shoulder: "You know you're the best, right?"

That brought a smile (a real smile) back to Patton's face: "Aw, don't mention it, kiddo. What are friends for?"

"Deep philosophical conversation, apparently." Roman quipped as he turned back to the door: "Thank you, my friend! I shall see you at dinner!!"

It was time to talk to Damien.

He found the regent just as he was about to enter his chambers.

"Damien!!" he greeted, clapping a hand on the man's shoulder to lessen the risk of him ignoring him and leaving.

Damien winced in pain: "Prince Roman, what a surprise." he choked out.

He made a little eye roll, just wide enough for Roman to notice. But hell if he was going to let  _ that _ distract him.

“May we talk for a moment?” he asked.That alone made him raise an eyebrow, but when he added “In private?”, Damien made a complete 180, shrugging his shoulder out of his grip.

“You must forgive me, Your Highness. I have some urgent business I must attend to. Is it possible to delay this conversation?”

_ Not suspicious at all _ .

He knew better than to insist. He would probably lie more. No, it would be more productive to be sneaky about this. 

“Of course.” he bowed. 

The door was shut before he was even done talking.

“Good talk.” he mumbled to himself as he headed off to his room. Remus got cranky when he wasn’t given attention and he wasn’t going to let poor Logan suffer through that on his vacation. 

His mind wandered. Damien was being really,  _ really  _ suspicious. And he had no clue what to do about it except keep an eye out for the guy and hope nothing went wrong.

Damien was nowhere to be found until breakfast, which certainly didn’t help his case any. 

“Good morning, Damien.” he greeted, giving the man a knowing smile. Remus snickered softly just beside him.

“Oooh, someone’s in trouble…” he commented. Damien completely ignored him in favour of bowing his head to Roman. He showed no signs of guilt or nervousness, the smooth bastard.

“Good morning, Your Highness.”

“Please forgive me, my friend, but I must insist that we discuss a certain matter in private. You know, as you promised yesterday.” Roman smiled.

He saw Virgil snort into his tea, blowing a few drops on the silver buttons of his jacket. Damien gave his cousin a sideways glare. 

“I apologize. As I mentioned, I had urgent matters to attend to.”

“ _ Urgent _ .” Virgil snickered. He earned a second, even worse glare for his troubles. 

“Yes, Virgil. Urgent.” he hissed. 

Virgil made a face.

“What is it?” Roman asked.

The prince answered,  _ very _ quietly: “I forgot the sugar…”

Patton smothered a smile in his own tea. Damien leaned over to put sugar in Virgil’s tea. A  _ lot _ of sugar. He dumped at least three abundant spoonfuls in his cousin’s teacup before he could stop him. Virgil shot him a look that spelled out  _ murder _ loud and clear, but the smug  _ you were asking for it  _ on Damien’s face kept him quiet and his pride made him bring the cup to his lips anyway. 

A few more drops spilled on him when he attempted to elbow his cousin.

“What do you need to talk to him about, Roman?” Logan asked him with an expression that he knew meant  _ and why can’t you say it in front of us _ . 

“Oh, just something private. You wouldn’t know, Lulu.”

“Please refrain from calling me that.”

“In public.” Remus snickered.

“Ever.” Logan corrected. “It is very inappro-” 

Roman followed Logan’s wide eyes to Virgil. Specifically, Virgil’s hand. 

The prince seemed uneasy. Before he could ask what was wrong, though, Logan stood from his chair to run towards him: “Your Highness! Don’t drink that!!”

He didn’t need to say it. 

Virgil was so startled by the sudden move that he spilled the rest of the tea on the table anyway. “ **_What_ ** ??” the prince hissed, clutching his chest.

To everyone’s surprise, Logan turned to Patton: “Patton. He needs a check, immediately.”

“Why?” Roman asked, exchanging a concerned look with his friend. Logan seemed to calm down a bit at their confusion.

“His spoon is changing color.” he pointed out, gravely. 

That meant absolutely nothing to any of them but Patton, apparently, who went deathly pale and immediately knelt next to Virgil to check on him.

“What is this about?” Damien inquired, hovering above Patton.

“This is important.” Patton stated: “Has anyone else put sugar in their tea?” 

The twins shrugged. “I take honey.” Roman specified. 

“Me too.” said Damien.

Remus, Patton and Logan hadn’t put sugar in their tea either.

Patton got up. “Would you follow me to the infirmary, please?”

And off they went, despite everyone’s confused protest. Damien stumbled after them.

An awkward silence fell upon the royals of Estirith as soon as they had left. 

Remus, of course, broke the silence: “What was that about?”

Logan had been still and silent up until that moment, suspended in a bubble of strangely eloquent concern. As soon as Remus addressed him, he collapsed into Patton’s chair with a heavy sigh. He looked incredibly stressed. 

“Logan.” Roman called, standing up to back his brother: “Logan, what was that? Is Virgil okay?”

“I hope so…” his tutor sighed.

He lifted his gaze upon the twins’ expectant faces. 

“I don’t want to alarm you.” he simply said.

“Just tell us what happened.” Roman pleaded.

Logan sighed once more. His eyes traveled to the dripping patch of gold on the tablecloth, then to the spilled ceramic cup with the blackening silver spoon lying beside it, then to the abandoned sugar jar.

“Silver has a particular reaction to sulphur.” he began to explain, “If there is enough sulphur in a certain substance, it may begin to tarnish.”

“So there was, what, sulphur in the tea?” Remus questioned, “Doesn’t sulphur have a reaaally strong smell?”

“It does.” Logan agreed, “But arsenic does not.”

That got their attention.

“ _ Arsenic _ ???” Roman huffed, “Virgil was drinking  _ arsenic _ ??” 

Logan stopped him before he could run after his friends: “It is a possibility. Arsenic can easily be hidden in sugar, indeed, it has been hidden in sugar in the past. If it was arsenic, then it’s a good thing we found it right away. Virgil will be alright. If the symptoms had manifested  _ before _ we noticed the spoon, it would have been a much bigger problem.”

The twins gave a sigh of relief. 

Roman stared longingly at the door to the west wing.

"You are dismissed." Logan said, and the boy was out of the room before he could finish talking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys, probably: Cass no  
> Me, definitely: Cass YES
> 
> Please feel free to yell at me in the comments.
> 
> Next time: Roman's getting worried.


	8. Slash

Virgil was fine. He would be, anyway. Patton had told them that the poison hadn't had a chance to enter the bloodstream when they'd flushed it out. Regardless, it was better to let him rest, he'd told them as he gently ushered them out of the infirmary. All except Damien, who could not be persuaded to leave. 

Patton promised him Virgil would be up and running very shortly, but that did nothing to appease him. 

"I will stay here." he stated, setting up shop next to his very unimpressed little cousin.

Patton didn't insist because, ( _ between you and me, Roman _ …) he found it adorable. He also assured Roman that having a loved one nearby could greatly improve a patient's recovery.

It sounded fair enough to believe.

When he walked into their room, Remus started talking before so much as looking at Roman: “Didn’t you say Patton knew?”

“That’s what I thought.” Roman sighed, picking a ruby red apple from the fruits basket Logan insisted on having in their common room, “But when I started talking about Damien, it looked like he didn’t know what I was talking about.”

He took a bite out of the apple. It was sweeter than he’d expected.

“Maybe he doesn’t know all the details. Like… he knows there’s a worm and doesn’t know it’s in the apple.” Remus suggested.

Roman put the apple down.

Twelve hours passed before Virgil was allowed to walk around the castle again. It would probably have been shorter had Damien not insisted that  _ a few more hours, just to be sure, couldn't hurt _ .

Virgil had not been happy with his behaviour, but that didn't seem to bother him at all, and so there he'd stayed. 

They decided then and there that even when he was finally allowed back at the breakfast table, he would not be allowed anywhere near sugar or any powders that hadn't been thoroughly checked by Patton. 

That didn't quite have the desired effect on Virgil, who was terribly introverted and would start to bark and then bite if he wasn't left alone.

Until the next day, when Damien stopped hovering over him. In fact, he ceased any interaction with him altogether. He stopped insisting to walk beside him, to always know where he was, to be close at every moment or at least leave someone with him at all times. 

It was jarring. One day, they were filling the halls with the sound of their bickering and the next there was only heavy, awkward silence. 

Even Virgil seemed disturbed by the sudden change. 

That is why Remus somehow had the brilliant idea of suggesting another little trip, just the three of them, an idea which was immediately and simultaneously shut down by both Roman and Virgil on account of the high surveillance around the palace and of severe sleep deprivation for all parties involved. 

“We can’t be caught  _ again _ .” Roman stressed, “Logan will have our heads this time. He did  _ not _ take the arsenic thing lightly.”

“But!!” Remus rebuked, “Damien won’t bother us this time.”

“True.” Virgil mumbled.

“Well, I still don’t want to.”

“That’s on you, little brother.”

“We are  _ twins _ , Remus.”

Remus scoffed. “I can’t believe the way you ignore our four-minute age difference. Disgraceful. I am your senior and you will treat me as such.”

The other two elected to ignore him.

“Goodnight, my darling Virgil who is a fair share more tolerable than my slightly elder brother.” Roman bowed before turning away to head to his room.

“Goodnight, Princey. Remus.” 

“Oh, I see what you guys are doing here.” Remus snickered, running after his brother, “Goodnight then!! Some other time, I guess.”

There would be no other time, Roman and Virgil silently agreed.

Remus didn’t make it past their little common room before passing out on his chair, snoring obnoxiously loud. 

Roman sighed deeply. 

He loved his brother, obviously, because it was impossible to hate that weird little guy, but still; he couldn’t exactly picture him as a sane and reasonable person. Good thing his much more acute brother was there, he nodded to himself, or Remus would have had a hard time. Heh.

As if. 

He stared at his sleeping twin with tired eyes. Maybe he should go to sleep too, he thought. It couldn’t do him any good to stay awake every night, but his room had never looked so unappealing before. His bed felt like stone, his pillow seemed to be filled with gravel, and his eyelids stayed closed for little more than a blink. Why, he couldn't tell. There was  _ something _ wrong, that much was obvious, but he couldn't define it: a sense of terrible dread, a suffocating anxiety that offered no explanation. His heart was screaming bloody murder, but it couldn't be coaxed into saying why or how to make it stop. 

Well, to that he said:  _ would a round of patrol make you feel better, heart? _

_ Yes _ , his heart reluctantly admitted.

"Alright!" he exclaimed, quietly, to himself. He slid off the boiling hot sheets that covered his bed, sneaking quietly out of the bedroom. Not before grabbing his sword on the way out, obviously. 

It didn't occur to him that Remus might have woken up and might have been following him until he heard his brother snicker just behind him. Remus would probably never realize how close he'd come to being decapitated.

"You  _ fiend _ !!!" he hissed, "You could've just  _ told _ me you were coming with me!!"

"Where's the fun in that?" his twin shrugged, casually pushing the blade away from his neck with the tip of his finger.

"The  _ fun _ , Remus, is not getting decapitated by your own brother. That's the fun."

"I disagree."

Roman scoffed, shoving his sword back into its sheath maybe a little more aggressively than he should have.

"You look really funny when you get scared." Remus insisted, "How could I pass that up? It gets terribly boring in the common room all by myself."

"That is because you get your kicks from annoying other people." Roman growled.

"Alas. I cannot deny it."

Roman sighed. “Alright. What do you want, you goblin?”

“Not much.” he shrugged, “I mean, I did want to just stand here and laugh at you walking around in your nightie and swinging a sword willy-nilly, but seeing as how we’re almost around the bend, I’d say patrol time’s over.”

It wasn’t.

Remus had barely had time to finish the sentence before a crash echoed from just around the corner. It wasn’t loud, but it was there. They exchanged a quick glance.

_ Check it out quietly _ .

It was a good resolution. Healthy, even. Which is exactly the reason why it lasted all of five seconds.

_ Bang! _

_ Bang! _

_ Bang! _

Knocking.

That was suspicious enough on its own for them to make a move towards the next room, but what came after made them run.

" _ Roman _ !!!  _ Remus _ ?  _ Guys _ ,  _ I need help _ !!  _ Please _ !!”

“You hear what I’m hearing?” Remus asked, but he’d asked the air. “Geez, you’re fast.” he mumbled as he watched his twin sprint away.

The panicked voice was absolutely unmistakeable.

When Roman turned the corner, though, it had already stopped.

Limping towards the west wing was Virgil, whose hand never left the wall beside him. Finally, he turned to Roman. Yet their eyes never met, because Roman’s eyes were trained on the blood that seeped through Virgil’s shirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "hey Cass, what time is it?"
> 
> Me, typing feverishly: It's whump time.
> 
> Yeah so apparently being stuck in bed with the flu warrants posting a chapter early out of sheer boredom so uh... enjoy the whump y'all. 
> 
> Please feel free to yell at me, it means I succeeded.
> 
> Next time: Some sweetness, I promise.


	9. Quiet

Roman could safely say that he had seen blood enough to be unphased by minor injuries. This was not the case. The stain on Virgil’s sleeve was wide and fresh and clearly still growing. A piece of what was hopefully his shirt was hanging by a thread from his arm, red and dripping and glistening in the moonlight.

“Woah!!” Remus exclaimed, pushing past his completely dumbfounded brother, “How’d  _ that _ happen?”

“Someone… there was someone in the corridor. An- and they attacked me, I don’t-” 

Virgil paused, closing his eyes in an attempt to calm his panicked breathing. “They had a knife.” he continued, gingerly lifting his left arm, “I blocked the strike, but- uh…”

He stopped when Roman finally managed to move towards him and hold up his injured arm.

“There’s not enough light here…” he mumbled, “I can’t see how bad it is, but you’re still bleeding. Here…”

Almost mechanically, he opened the door to his room, still holding on to Virgil’s arm. He knew there was a first aid kit somewhere, because Logan had insisted that they should learn first aid. An incomparably valuable skill, he’d told them as he ushered them off to meet the local physician for the first time; a dear friend of his whose acquaintance they had yet to have the pleasure of making; a very sweet man, then in his twenties, whose house had pastel blue walls and a pleasant smell of herbs. 

He distinctly remembered getting along with Patton immediately. Remus was a tougher sell, but they’d eventually found a middle ground that time when he’d helped them prank their stern tutor, when they’d found out that Patton was not only a sweetheart, but a bit of a jokester. Although, honestly, they should have suspected it, given the sheer amount of puns he made in a single day. Hour. Minute.

The kit was stored in a little wooden box. Bandages, scissors, disinfectant, needle and thread. 

Scissors first, he told himself. 

“Remus, could you get the lamp for me?” he asked, without taking his eyes off Virgil’s arm. He cut the extra piece of the shirt away.

Quietly, they got to work stitching up the wound. It was a clean cut, thankfully, but it was deep.

“Does this hurt a lot?” he asked Virgil once he’d made the first stitch.

The prince shook his head quietly. 

Roman bumped his forehead against Virgil's neck gently to offer support. He seemed to appreciate it, because he leaned his head in as well.

“I feel tired.” he murmured.

“Thaaat’s not good.” Remus commented.

“I’ll get you to the infirmary as soon as we’re done here.” Roman promised. 

“I just need to lie down…”

“Oh no. Don’t even try it, I am getting you to a doctor. “

“No, really. I need to lie do…” Virgil breathed out. His head dropped on Roman’s shoulder.

“Virgil?”

No answer.

“Virgil!!”

“Shit, he passed out.” Remus mumbled.

_ You are not helping. _

“I could’ve told you that!” Roman hissed, hurriedly tying the last stitch before lifting his unconscious friend’s head off his shoulder to lay it more comfortably on the chair. “Quick, get me some bandages.”

To his credit, Remus was quick to pass him the roll of bandages. He was equally quick to apply them. He felt his brother’s hand brush his shoulder.

“Should I get Patton?”

“Immediately.”

He didn’t remember much until the doctor arrived. He only remembered holding his hand over the rough surface of the gauze in an effort to keep pressure on the cut. He may have placed his head on Virgil’s shoulder, or he may only have thought about doing it. Maybe he’d spoken to his unconscious friend. Who could say?

Patton stumbled in with the grace of a stone statue about five minutes later. It was only then that Roman finally  _ saw _ him. Saw his tousled hair and his pale, worried face with sunken eyes, and his ever-increasing clumsiness. He was so _ tired _ .

He didn't have time to feel bad about it, though, because the medic immediately took Virgil's pale bandaged arm in his hands. 

"This is a good dressing, Roman." he told him as he examined it, a half smile blooming on his dry lips. "Remus told me what happened. How long ago did you find him?"

It wasn't too obvious that Patton was trying to keep his mind off him while he made his visit, but it was obvious enough for someone who knew him to understand. He decided to humour him anyway. 

"Maybe ten, fifteen minutes ago? I'm...not sure."

"Hm…" 

Patton ran his hand along Virgil's wrist, pressing two fingers to the pulse point. He frowned. 

"What is it, Pat? Is he okay?"

"I wouldn't call this okay, but he's not in any danger now. I'll have to check the wound and change the dressing, though…" he smiled apologetically, as if Roman had any reason to be opposed to that.

"Go for it. What should we do?"

"Go to bed." Patton replied, "You've done enough, kiddo."

"No, seriously. What should I do?"

"No, seriously. Go to bed."

"I can't!!" he cried, "I can't. There's still… there's still blood everywhere. I'd have to clean up first. But that would take me until morning. I-"

"Roman." he heard his friend call, "Listen to me. Do you need advice?"

"Yes." he answered before he could even think about it.

"Okay. Go run a bath. Wash everything off, clean yourself up, remember to soak your clothes in cold water so the blood doesn't stick and then go directly to the bedroom and try to sleep. If all that doesn't work, then you can come talk to me. Deal?"

He took a deep breath.

"Deal."

To his credit, he genuinely tried to do what he'd been told. He did. But the peace lasted all of five minutes before the memory of slick blood between his fingers flared once again at the forefront of his head. Red and white, like his clothes, like blood and pale, lifeless skin against his hand, stitches and the smell of alcohol and silence. The silence might have been the worst part, because there  _ should _ have been some sort of sound. 

Clip. 

Drip. 

Groan. 

Shift. 

Hiss. 

Whisper.

Nothing. His dreams were silent.

He sat listlessly at his desk to cool down.

His diary was pristine as ever, with nary a drop of blood in sight.

_ June 1st _

_ Dear Diary, _

_ Something happened today and Virgil was injured. I don’t know what to do. It’s taking all I have not to go see him. I should not. It isn’t my place to be at his side right now, as much as I would like to. Is that normal, this way of thinking? I don’t know. I need to sleep. _

And sleep he did, still clutching the pen in his hand.

When the morning came, a spot on his pillow glistened with silent tears. He turned it over before he even woke up. No one but the cold and quiet moon above would ever see the tears of Prince Roman that night. 

Not even him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise Valentine's update y'all!! :D  
> Fresh from the flu oven. If anything I'm writing sounds delirious, I apologize.  
> Roman is sweet in emergencies, breathe if you agree.
> 
> Leave a comment if you care to do so u.u
> 
> Next time: Better times.


	10. 5AM

He was in for a rude awakening, as it turned out. At five in the morning, to be exact, when a quiet knock on his door turned into a loud knock and knocked him right out of his dreamless sleep.

“Uh- wha?” he mumbled, sitting up in bed.

_ I really need to get some more sleep. _

The knocking returned, more insistent than before. 

He begrudgingly rolled out of bed to look through the peephole. Yes, there was a peephole on the door to his and Remus’s rooms. Creative children are difficult to please.

He put his eye to the glass and met the dark and sunken eyes of his friend. The door was open before he could even process it: “Virgil!! What are you doing here?”

“Sssh!!”

“You should be resting!!”

“Roman, ssh…”

“You lost like a liter of blood an hour ago!!”

“That was four hours ago, actually.”

“Not my point!” Roman hissed.

“But it’s  _ my _ point.” Virgil mumbled, “Look, I’m fine. It wasn’t that bad. Patton said so.”

Roman didn’t believe him for a second, but there was something in the way his eyes shifted to look around him that made him step aside.

“Come in.” he said, and Virgil suddenly looked a little better. 

He closed the door, but decided against locking it. Maybe it was better to leave Virgil a way out just in case. He scanned his friend.

Virgil looked...pretty bad. He didn't seem to have lost any particular function in his arm, thankfully, but the way he carried himself suggested a strong and piercing pain. He was clearly avoiding eye contact with him and kept looking over his shoulder and glancing at the window behind Roman's back; he spoke softly and the expression on his face was... strange, not really fear or anger, but disbelief and denial. 

"Virgil." he called, very slowly extending a hand to his friend's shoulder, giving him time to get away if he needed to. He didn't.

"Mh?"

"What's wrong?"

"A lot of things." Virgil admitted, blowing his hair off his forehead. "Not the least of which being that someone tried to stab me."

"Fair enough. But there is something else, isn't there?" 

The prince's dejected expression was a clear answer on its own. Roman frowned. He honestly couldn't think of much that surpassed an  _ actual assassination attempt _ in terms of how much that might have upset Virgil. But apparently there was something. He racked his brain. What could have upset his friend to the point of knocking on his door,  _ his _ door, not the physician's or his cousin's or anyone else's, at 4 Ante Meridian, that bothered him as much as or more than having an assassin after him? There weren't that many options.

Fortunately, he didn't have to figure it out himself, because Virgil was in a talking mood for once.

"I went to Damien, you know. After Patton gave me his blessing."

Roman nodded. So he  _ had  _ gone to his cousin first. A sneaking suspicion started to gnaw at his gut.

"And?"

Virgil took a moment to answer. "He didn't even let me into his room."

He raised his brow. Okay, that seemed... suspicious, to say the least, but there were variables to consider.

"Did you tell him you'd been attacked?"

"Sort of." Virgil compromised, "I planned on telling him. I just told him I felt unsafe and I wanted to talk to him."

"And he told you to leave?"

"Yeah."

"Well…" Roman sighed, "Look, my dear, I don't know how to break this to you, but sometimes when you're starting to grow up adults don't want to spoil you too much a-"

"No, you don't understand!" Virgil's voice cracked a little: "We have an agreement!! If either of us feels unsafe, we have the right to spend some time together until we calm down. No talking necessary, just sitting there. That's how it's  _ always  _ been, and he's  _ never  _ broken the agreement before now, and-"

Roman's hands fell on his shoulders, startling him out of his panicked rambling.

"Did he tell you why he wasn't letting you in?"

"No…" his friend mumbled, "He acted like it was nothing. Like he didn't know anything about the agreement."

He paused. When he glanced at Roman for the first time in a while, his lips curved in a strange way, like he wanted to smile and frown at the same time: "Don't look at me like that!"

"Like what?"

" _ That _ . I don't know, it's just weird- stop that, Roman. Why are you smiling like that?"

"Like whaaaat?" he teased again, bringing his hands up to frame his radiant smile, "Like I'm happy that you're here?"

“God, aren’t you saccharine. Don’t you think I’ve had enough sugar to last me a week?” 

“I think you needed just a little more.”

Virgil scoffed, but his lips tugged upwards a little.

“You know, maybe I did.”

They spent a few hours in there, but very few words were exchanged after that. Virgil seemed content with reading one of Roman’s old books (an assignment from Logan, which he’d never really completed and had somehow gotten away with. It was a poetry book. Funny story. Roman actually enjoyed poetry; it was probably the one thing he and Logan agreed on. But that particular book was simply atrocious. It was way too packed with symbolism and way,  _ way _ too depressing for him. Virgil, though, seemed completely enthralled. Tastes.

He made a mental note to ask him about what he liked while he finished his sketch. His page was  _ full _ of sketches, and a considerable amount had the same subject. To be fair, it wasn't _ his  _ fault that Virgil posed like a Renaissance statue while reading.

"Hey." Virgil called, all of a sudden.

"Mh?"

"I didn't know you liked poetry."

"I didn't know  _ you _ liked poetry either." Roman pointed out, "But yes, it's the one thing me and Logan can agree on."

"Logan is…"

"My tutor. The man with the glasses that doesn't know how to tell someone they've been poisoned?"

"Oh, him. You know, I was wondering how to ask him his name. I hadn't been formally introduced and it was  _ way _ too late to ask him then."

Roman chuckled: "Well, good thing I'm here then. What would you do without me?"

"Hmm… good question. I probably wouldn't even be in this kingdom if you didn't exist."

"Good heavens, Virgil!!"

"What?"

"Let's not even go there. I exist and frankly, it would be very hard to erase me from existence  _ now _ ."

"That's fair." Virgil shrugged. He stared out the window for a few seconds. "But… do you ever wonder what the world would be? If you just…didn't exist?"

"Heavens no! It sounds dreadful."

Virgil snorted: "You  _ would _ say that."

"I  _ do _ say that! Why, my dear boy, those are pointless thoughts."

"Why?"

"Because you either think about them too much, or too little. If you think about them too much, you fall deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole of this bleak fantasy where you don't exist, which is of course impossible. If you think too little, you may find some superficial reason why this fantasy may be better than your reality. Which...it isn't. No matter how you look at it."

Virgil stared at him. He looked... almost impressed. Almost.

"That's a lot more thought than I expected from you, Roman."

Roman scoffed: "What is  _ that _ supposed to mean, you vampire?"

"Nothing, nothing. Don't think about it too much."

Virgil rubbed his eyes just as the morning sun hit them: "I should probably go back to my own room."

"Are you sure?" Roman frowned, "It's not a problem. If you feel safer here…"

"I do." Virgil nodded, "But since no one was informed of this impromptu sleepover, I don't think we should let the whole palace know we spent a night in your room together."

"Why, my dear? Do you suppose they'll get any strange ideas?" he winked.

The prince made a face: "After  _ that _ wink, I'm sure of it."

Roman laughed from the heart.

"See you in a few hours then."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, NOW the fluff. Yeeh.  
> Catch me trying to write chemistry like I experience it :3
> 
> Leave a comment because y not :3
> 
> Next time: A theory.


	11. Breakdown

The next day was spent mostly in tranquility. Even Remus made an effort to not be loud and obnoxious in front of the injured prince, a greater effort than he made for most people. He was almost sweet, asking for his opinion on his weird horror books. Remus loved those. Maybe a bit too much, Roman had teased, but he  _ was  _ glad they were getting along. 

The more attached he got to Virgil, however, the less he trusted his cousin to be around him. 

He stared at the regent like one would an enemy soldier, distrustfully, putting himself between him and his increasingly confused little cousin; Damien, on his part, avoided them as much as he could.

“Alright.” Virgil stated, abruptly standing up after a long silence: “What is it?”

“What is what?” Remus asked, having no clue when to shut his mouth, ever. Thankfully, Virgil ignored him in favor of the real target of his outburst. Namely, Damien, who looked like he’d rather be anywhere but there at that moment. “Seriously, Damien. You ever going to talk to me or…?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Virgil.”

The king regent’s words had the same warmth as a bucket of ice.

“Oh, I’m sure you don’t. It’s not like you’ve been avoiding me since yesterday evening.”

“Awkward.” Remus commented, quietly. 

Roman elbowed him in the ribs. They both knew it would do nothing to stop Remus but at least it made him feel a little better knowing that he tried. They couldn’t leave, because that would require getting up and walking right into the line of fire that was Virgil’s glare, so they were stuck in the middle of a potential argument.

“I don’t know what you mean, Virgil. I am behaving the same as usual. You’re the one who’s unusually jumpy.”

That made  _ Roman _ ’s blood boil, so it was no surprise at all that Virgil didn’t take it well.

“Unusually j…” he scoffed, “I’m  _ sorry  _ I wanted some comfort after almost being  _ stabbed _ !!”

Roman could’ve sworn he saw Damien jump in the corner of his eye.

Virgil wasn’t done, though. “I have no idea what the hell is going on with you, but you know what? If you don’t want to tell me, then I don’t even  _ want _ to know. I don’t need to know. I don’t care.”

He stood up abruptly, closing what little distance there was between him and the door before disappearing into the corridor.

The room fell silent.

“Wow.” Remus broke the silence, “You really know how to defuse a situation, don’tcha Damien?”

Damien’s eyes were fixed on the door. His expression had completely drained of any emotion other than shock. 

“I have to go.” he said, almost entranced.

Roman had left before he could see where that was going.

“I just don’t get it.” was the first thing Virgil told him when he walked into the parlor. 

“Virgil-”

“Roman, I know you don’t know me or Damien that well, but I promise, I  _ swear _ to God that he’s never acted like this before.” he said. His voice cracked a little: “I don't know what's going on with him!"

Roman bit his lip. This was going too far. Whatever Damien was doing, it had actively put Virgil in danger and greatly upset him. 

What could possibly be keeping Damien from revealing his motives? 

It was at that moment that a thought pushed its way to the front of his mind; a thought that had formed a few days prior and that kept insistently chipping away at his sanity every time Damien was mentioned. 

Every time that Virgil's life had been threatened, he was involved.

He was the one who poured an inordinate amount of arsenic-laced sugar into Virgil's tea.

He was the one who had ignored his pleas when he was bleeding and scared. 

Coincidentally, he was also the single person that would benefit the most from the crown prince's death.

Roman stared at his friend. Virgil sat grumpily on the old oak chest next to the closet, seemingly not having thought of that possibility, and who could blame him? 

He sat quietly next to him.

“Virgil…” he murmured. His friend leaned in to listen: “What?”

He stared at him quietly. 

“I don’t know how to tell you this…” Roman admitted, “I’m not even sure I should.”

“Well, now I  _ want  _ to know.” said Virgil, scooting a little closer to him.

“Virgil.” he mumbled, “Virgil, Virgil, Virgil... I don’t think you understand the gravity of my doubt. I’m ashamed of it.”

“Just tell me.”

“I should.”

“So why don’t you?”

“It’s not easy, dear boy.” Roman sighed, “I want nothing more than to be wrong about this, and I fear your anger.”

“Okay okay okay, stop.” Virgil interrupted, “How come you turn into Keats the moment you have to say something serious?”

Roman blinked. “It did not occur to me.”

“You get really poetic sometimes. Out of nowhere.”

“Well, I do enjoy poetr- that is not my point. Back to the point.”

“What  _ is  _ your point?” Virgil inquired. Roman felt himself falling right back into his woeful, overly poetic funk, but clenched his teeth and resolved to just… tell him. Eventually. Later.  _ Now _ .

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Listen, Virgil. Do you know who might have attacked you?”

“No, I didn’t see their face. You know that.”

“I mean, can you think of anyone who might have… I don’t know… planned this?”

Virgil scowled: “You think I haven’t thought about that before? There’s just too many people. It’s not exactly the first time, you know? I got pushed down the stairs when I was five, it was obviously intentional, it turned out one of the servants was a spy, that was a disaster, the works.”

Roman’s eyes widened: “Oh.”

“They never did find out who he was working for, though. He managed to run away and we never saw him again.” Virgil explained, “I don’t know if it’s the same people. I can’t imagine why they would wait this long.”

Roman frowned: “Virgil, look, I don’t want to pretend I know best, but... “ he lowered his voice to a whisper, “... don't you think Damien's been acting too weird to not be involved?"

He only had a moment to see how Virgil’s face twisted, but it felt like an eternity. Watching it transform and deform into a face of confusion, shock, then finally anger, and it all felt like looking through a water tank.

He had no time to brace for impact.

“ _ What _ ??” Virgil hissed. 

He wasn’t sure that had been the best thing to say, but then again, if only one could go back in time, life would be a lot easier. 

“I-”

“What the hell is your  _ problem _ ?” Virgil snapped: “Are you serious? You look at this entire court for a suspect and you settle for  _ Damien _ ??”

“Virgil-”

“I mean, really? Roman, he practically  _ raised _ me. I wouldn’t… I… he...“

He paused, lost for words, although his lips didn’t stop moving. It was like the words had been stolen from his tongue. His gaze fell to the floor as the rage that had flared in him died down and left his injured arm to drop weakly at his side. 

He went quiet.

“He wouldn’t.” he whispered, so softly that Roman probably wouldn’t have heard him if he’d been standing any further.

Roman hesitantly reached for his shoulder, but his hand fell when Virgil turned away.

“I just… I need some time.” he mumbled. There was a little crack in his voice. “Can you just…”

_ Leave. _

“Of course.” he whispered. 

Roman left without another word from either of them. 

He went straight to the rose garden and wasn’t seen until dinner. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah that happened.
> 
> Not much to say here except do feel free to yell at me. I've been dreading this chapter for a while :/
> 
> Next time: Virgil has a secret, it would seem.


	12. Reconcile

_ June 2nd _

_ I’m worried, my dear.  _

_ Virgil was alright after the attack, but he’s so scared. He feels betrayed. It was not my fault, not entirely, but I can’t help but feel that I should do more for him than I am. I don’t know if he wants to talk to me again after my outrageous suggestions. I regret it.  _

_ You will be updated, dear diary, but not until tomorrow. _

Yes, he was aware of how Logan was raising his eyebrows at him. No, it did not affect him. So maybe he'd dug a little too deep with his pen.  _ Maybe _ there was ink everywhere. So what?

Logan didn't say anything at first. It was only when Roman was busily mopping up what ink he could from the writing desk with a handkerchief that he spoke up.

"You seem peculiarly distracted." he observed, calmly flipping the page of his little book.

Roman groaned loudly, fanning the diary with his hand in an attempt to dry the growing stain of ink in the corner: "I messed up, Lo. I said too much."

"What news."

"Shut up." he hissed, but he wasn't  _ too _ offended. Logan was right. He still hadn't let Roman forget about the time he'd told the Marquis of Belizée that he was sure Hell was missing its best torturer and that he should not keep them waiting any more. Which is not to say that Logan liked the Marquis. In fact, no one despised the Marquis more than him after he'd deliberately, but subtly, wished the young princes of Estirith ill. Oh, what a day it had been.

He smiled a little at the memory, but immediately started frowning upon noticing the stain on his sleeve.

"Dammit."

“Language.”

Roman waited until after dinner (Virgil didn’t attend and neither did Damien) to go find his friend. Remus hissed at him when he left the room in a hurry, but it was Remus. No matter of concern.

Virgil was still in his room, locked inside and reportedly ignoring anyone who’d knocked on his door that afternoon, so Roman was not exactly expecting a warm welcome. That’s why he recoiled in shock when he heard the lock click.

A slice of Virgil’s pale, red-streaked face peeked through the gap in the door.

“Hi.” the prince of Asterion greeted in a rough and gravelly voice, scratching the back of his head in that adorable manner. He didn’t look upset anymore, just… tired. His shoulders sagged and his eyes wandered sluggishly around the room. He gave Roman a tired smile: “Are you gonna come in or should we just stand here the rest of the day?”

Roman hurried inside. “You must forgive me, dear boy. I wasn’t sure you wanted anyone around.”

Virgil shrugged: “I don’t.” 

“Oh.”

“But you’re alright with me. I don’t wanna talk to the doctor…”

“Patton.”

“Yeah, him. Or your brother or, God forbid, Damien.” Virgil sighed, pulling himself up to sit on the windowsill. He traced the edge of the window with his finger. 

“A sound choice.” Roman agreed, sitting next to him, “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. I’m telling you just in case you didn’t know.”

Virgil chuckled quietly: “I appreciate it.”

They fell into a semi-comfortable silence in a matter of seconds. 

Virgil leaned his head against the window with a half smile. The red in his face was fading away with every little brush of fresh breeze against his cheek. Roman’s hand brushed against the black velvet of his sleeve before he could realize it. Virgil opened his eyes, but didn’t move. 

“Are you alright?” Roman whispered.

He took a moment to answer. “I feel better. I just… don’t know what to do now.”

He nodded quietly. 

Virgil met his eyes for just a moment. Then his gaze fell back to the view outside.

The new, slightly more uncomfortable silence that settled after that lasted maybe five minutes, maybe a little more, as Virgil seemed to grow restless and nervous. His face flushed a bit when he finally spoke again, poking at Roman’s shoulder: “Um… Roman?”

“Yes?”

“What do you think of me?” he asked, “Sincerely.”

He looked nervous, like he was ready to hear Roman deride him, tell him he meant nothing to him. So he told him the truth.

"I love spending time with you. I think you're weird. Really weird. But like… the good kind of weird." he answered. "I like you a lot. I had my eye on you the moment we found you sneaking out and you told me I looked like a lighthouse."

Virgil made a sound halfway between a chuckle and a groan: "Oh god. You remember that."

"Did you think I wouldn't?"

"I was vainly hoping you would forget, yes." Virgil admitted, tucking some hair behind his ear in embarrassment.

"Oh, don't be silly, my darling vampire bat…" Roman fanned himself with his hand: "Your persistent teasing is part of why I enjoy your company so much."

"Really??"

He looked so surprised, he noticed in quiet amusement.

"Yes, really. It is utterly boring to spend time with people who agree with everything you say and never once try to sass you…" he sighed, "That's why I hate meetings with the Council."

"Heh…"

"And you're such an accidental philosopher, Virge." he added, "You can deny it all you like, but you have the speculative soul of a philosopher. And philosophers and poets complete each other perfectly." 

"I imagine that by  _ poets _ you mean  _ Roman, Prince of Estirith _ ."

"What gave it away?" he laughed.

Virgil didn't laugh, though. He gave a nervous scoff and then retreated back into his shell for a moment.

"Roman…" he called, very quietly, "I need you to tell me something."

"Mh?"

"Can you keep a secret? No matter what it is?" 

Roman raised his brow: "If you think it so important, of course. I would never wish to upset you further."

Virgil took a sharp breath: "Alright." he agreed.

It took him a full minute, however, to actually start talking. 

"When I got here… I hated it. I mean, I didn't, but…" he made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a scoff, "I didn't  _ like _ it. So many new people, you know? And the only person I actually knew was being weird."

"Mh." Roman nodded.

"But then your annoying self came along."

"Hey!!" he protested, but he only meant it a little bit.

"Let me finish. You really _ were  _ annoying. Or so I thought. But…" he sighed, "I really do appreciate how you somehow decided I'd be a good friend to have."

"I don't regret it for a second."

Virgil smiled. There was  _ something _ behind the thin veil of his eyes, though, that the smile didn't quite reach.

"Why is that a secret, Virgil?" he asked, "You know, being appreciative is not a crime."

His face flushed a bit: "Well… well, no, but…"

"Come now, Virgil dear." he teased, "That can't be all you wanted to say."

"If what I told you gets out, your life is at risk." Virgil threatened.

"Don't change the subject, Virge." 

"I'm not!" 

Roman raised his brow at the sudden shift in tone: "No need to be so defensive. Just tell me, Virgil. I promised it would stay a secret, did I not?"

"You did, but…" 

Virgil sighed loudly: "Look, I changed my mind. I don't think it's a good idea to tell you."

For once in his life, the offended gasp he made was genuine. He realized a moment too late that it would probably sound just as fake as the others.

"Why?" he asked, sincerely: "Did I do something to make you change your mind? Because I would like to make up for it.”

“Heh…”

“Really!”

Virgil still didn’t look convinced, so he added: “I’m your friend, right?” 

It didn’t sound as good as he’d wanted it to. It sounded so much more manipulative than kind now that he’d said it out loud. But he was confused. Genuinely confused. He couldn’t think of anything he’d done in that brief space of time that might have convinced him he was no longer worthy of his trust. If only it were the first time he’d felt that way.

He felt a little better when he looked back at Virgil.

“Yeah… you’re right. Sorry, it’s… it’s not you.” he sighed, “You didn’t do anything, Roman. I just…” 

He didn’t finish.

Not immediately, at least.

“It would just...ruin everything. I think.”

Roman searched his mind for anything that might help him figure it out. He had nothing.

"Virgil, what could  _ possibly _ ruin it?" he whispered, "What could possibly ruin what we have here? I enjoy your company and I was led to believe that you enjoyed mine as well. Nothing will change that."

"Well, of course I enjoy staying with you!!" Virgil scoffed, "But I sincerely doubt there is nothing that could change your opinion of me. Like, what if I had done something illegal?"

"Oh, darling. I knew that part already."

That seemed to throw him off: "What??"

"Well, trespassing is illegal, isn't it?"

Virgil deflated quickly: "Oh. You meant our little uh… excursion."

"What did you think I meant?"

That might have been a bad way to go about it. Virgil's face flushed with embarrassment, but his hands went pale with terror as he gripped the curtain beside him in a shaking hold. He began to stutter. Something about  _ a crime against morality itself _ or something along those lines.

Roman gently placed a hand on his shoulder, and there it remained as Virgil flinched, coughed and sputtered, before recomposing himself slowly. Only then did Roman find it in himself to let go.

"Look, Roman…" he said, still panting slightly from his rant: "I don't want you to think any less of me. Not you."

He sighed loudly: "My dear Virgil, I would like you to point out exactly what part of  _ I will not change my opinion of you _ escapes your understanding. I want to make it clear that that will not happen."

He lowered his voice, leaning in to hold Virgil's shoulders: "Look…" he said, rubbing his thumbs gently across the black velvet of Virgil's jacket, "I know I am… flashy, and I seem so loud and obnoxious, but… I really do want to help you. And if you think no one else is a safe person, then…"

He placed a hand on his own heart in a dramatic gesture that should have looked more genuine than it did: "...I want to be that person. I want you to see it the way I see it, and the way I see it is: I would be your sole companion and your most trusted friend if you only asked me. That is all I can say."

Virgil finally seemed to understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)))  
> Oh my :)) What :)) could this be? :)))  
> See ya Wednesday, you crazy kids.
> 
> Please feel free to yell at me.
> 
> Next time: Roman learns a secret.


	13. Confess

As soon as Roman finished his speech, he could see a little spark of trust in Virgil's eyes. A twinkle of hope.

But the twinkle died in seconds, snuffed out by the terrible wind of doubt.

"I-I don't know, Roman. I mean, you seem accepting, but-"

"My dear boy, if I can accept Remus, there is nothing you can say that will make me think any less of you."

"He's your brother." Virgil pointed out, dejectedly, "You'd love him no matter what."

"That's where you're wrong."

Virgil flinched at the determination in his voice. Roman wasn't done.

"I love my brother because he's a weird little guy who eats fruit in a single bite and pokes my cheek with a knife when I get distracted. Because he tried to live underwater and he gave me pneumonia when we were eight. Because he gave me a pet snail for our sixth birthday. I don't love Remus because he's my brother, I love Remus because he's Remus, and that's  _ all _ I need him to be." 

Silence fell for just a moment as he tried to get his racing heart to slow down.

"So if I love Remus because he's Remus, why can't I love Virgil because he's Virgil?" he concluded, with a little nervous smile.

Virgil didn't answer. He looked utterly floored. Like love for love's sake was a completely foreign concept to him. Maybe it was, he realized on reflection, and a wave of sadness washed over him.

“You…” he whispered, “You really think that?”

“Yes!” Roman answered, without hesitation nor refrain. 

Virgil’s face blossomed into a wide, flattered smile. “That’s sweet.” he commented, “You know, maybe you’re right. Sugar’s not so bad when there’s no poison in it.”

“Ah, I see you’re a poet too.” Roman chuckled, before turning serious: “But really, Virgil, what is it you wanted to tell me?”

The smile withered away as quick as it had sprung.

Still, he seemed more convinced this time. “I uh… Well…”

He curled up a little against the frame: “I… Lately, I’ve been… thinking about something. Something weird. You know when you’ve been told the same thing all your life, but you just… don't get it?"

“Do I.”

“Yeah, well… that.” Virgil scratched the back of his head timidly, “I mean… I know I  _ should _ feel a certain way, but I just… don’t. It’s a little upsetting, you know?”

“I know.” he nodded. He really did. It may not have been obvious, but he really did. Just because he was good at concealing his contrasting emotions, it didn’t mean he didn’t feel them. He wished he could come clean to Virgil, but this wasn’t Roman’s moment. It was his.

He resolved to give him a little nudge instead: “But, Virgil… what kind of feeling are you referring to?”

Virgil seemed to have suddenly caught a terrible cough.

He stuttered again: “I- uh- well, I… nothing important but… uh… nothing.”

"Nothing?"

"Nothing."

He sighed, "Come now, Virgil. I've told you before, you must fear no judgement from me."

Virgil took a moment to think. He seemed conflicted, and Roman racked his brain for a way to help him decide. Before he could realize it, his hand was brushing against the top of Virgil's fingers as though providing reassurance. Trust, perhaps.

He flinched, but didn't attempt to remove it. Roman offered him the most sincere smile he could. Virgil's lips twitched. He finally spoke, looking almost entranced.

"I've never fallen for a woman. And now, I think... I've fallen for a man."

Roman’s breath left him just as soon as Virgil’s words left his lips. Still, he made no attempt to move his hand away. 

He couldn’t help the wide smile that crept upon his face then.

"Virgil, that's wonderful!!"

The prince had most definitely not expected that reaction: "Uh...what?"

Roman didn't care. A feeling of complete and pure delight was aflame in his heart: "I cannot tell you how happy I am to hear it, my dear."

"Why??" Virgil inquired, with the expression of someone who was so confused that he couldn't tell whether he was simply confused, or something else. Why, oh why, did feelings come in such ungodly combinations sometimes, he was probably thinking. Or maybe just Roman.

He grabbed Virgil's shoulders with a delighted smile on his face: "Virgil!! I have a confession too, it's only fair."

"Uh...o...ka-"

"I feel the same way!!" he blurted out for what was only the second time in his life. The memory of the first time tugged at a corner of his mind: soft candlelight and the whispers of two little boys who did not know their place in the world. The night that Remus had wondered for the first time if maybe the reason he was so confused when his friends talked about girls was that he couldn't understand it. If maybe Vincent, and James, and Malcolm had been a little more than his treasured friends and whether or not they felt what he had once felt for them. Roman remembered that night so clearly. He remembered breaking down and sobbing into Remus's arms, because he didn't know what to do with the realization. It was common among peasants and among the lower middle class to have a lover of the same sex, but nobility? Royalty, even? They were expected to continue the lineage. Not finding a suitable Queen could be seen as poor rulership at best, and treason at worst. He had cried so much. It wasn't fair.

He looked at Virgil then, and found that same confusion and fear in his eyes, but just a little spark of his burning spirit. It was bruised by the fear and anxiety for his safety that had shrouded him before he could even realize why, but the spark was alive, and only awaiting kindling to burst into a mighty flame.

That spark, he realized much later, when he'd spilled the beans about himself and his thoughts and how good it felt to find someone like him and how happy he was to be trusted with such a secret, was exactly the reason why, at that moment, the Prince of Estirith fell head over heels in love with Virgil.

The smile that answered him was even more of a revelation.

A rushing spring of poetry flowed from his heart when he realized it. He scrambled for his diary the moment he reached his room, dipping his pen into the ink so fast that he nearly spilled it a second time.

_ June 2nd _

_ Beloved,  _

_ Swirling as a storm that shakes the sea _

_ So swirl my thoughts around you _

_ I cannot look away,  _

_ For you are the substance of my mind, _

_ The song that lulls my heart to sleep, _

_ The angel that shall raise my soul _

_ When it leaves me last. _

_ Yet you deny me your blessed gaze _

_ Which gives shelter to my tortured heart. _

_ Look upon me, beloved, _

_ For there is true salvation in your eyes. _

  
  


He ripped the page off, as quietly as possible, and folded it. Quieter still, he planted a kiss to its folds, where a seal should have been. 

The seal of love needs not hide its contents from the object of its desire. He slipped the letter into his pocket with an ecstatic sigh.

_ I am in love! _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOO BOY, catch me trying to write love like I know it.  
> VERY IMPORTANT NOTE BELOW:  
> I feel like I should clarify immediately that Roman did already have feelings for Virge and didn't just fall in love because gay+gay automatically = love. But eighteen years of repression will do that to a person.  
> I don't know, I get the nagging feeling that someone will get pissed about this. I tried to make it more understandable but subtlety doesn't always work.  
> I even debated whether or not I should post this chapter and if I should rewrite the entire thing, but this is ultimately how I want to tell the story. I don't know why I'm so self-conscious about this chapter in particular, but you have been warned.
> 
> With that aside, poetry is fun :D
> 
> Leave a comment (but only after you've read the end notes)
> 
> Next time: Something sweet and something sour.


	14. To Virgil

Logan seemed to notice he looked happier when he waltzed into the parlour after dinner. He just didn’t realize why, as expected. Because Logan, poor dear, was the local expert on everything but human emotion and the complexity of love and affection. Bless his heart. 

“You seem very cheerful today.” he observed.

“Why, my dear Logan, how right you are!” he chirped, “Today is a beautiful, beautiful day.”

“I assume you are excited about Monday.”

“Indeed.” he said. Technically, it wasn’t a lie. He  _ was  _ excited for his birthday, even though the excitement of a crush overshadowed it by far. 

Logan hadn’t caught on, but the same couldn’t be said for his friend. Patton smiled at him maybe a little too wide when he picked up a romance novel from a shelf. He knew. 

  
  


_ Knock. _

_ Knock knock knock knock. _

_ Knock _ .

Roman raised his head from the pillow, hissing with displeasure when his hair tickled his nose. It was exactly midnight.

_ Knock. _

_ Knock knock knock knock. _

_ Knock. _

He groaned, rolling off the bed. “What is it, Remus?” he mumbled, dragging himself to the door, “You di’nt tell me we were goin’ out…”

He was a little too sleepy to be angry, but no amount of sleepiness would ever prevent him from being annoyed. As per the Adventure Agreement,stipulated and signed with finger paint at age 8, each of the siblings was required to warn the other of any nighttime plans at least a few hours before bedtime, with the sole exception of a serious change of plans that neither of them had had a hand in. Logan was not aware of the Adventure Agreement. 

He must’ve looked like a zombie when he finally unlocked the door. Which is why he nearly slammed it in Virgil’s face when he realized who he was talking to. 

“Virgil!!” he yelped.

“Hi.”

“What are you doing here??”

“I don’t feel safe. Can I stay here for a while?” 

Roman’s face softened instantly. “Come in.”

They sat on the windowsill once again, just like before. Virgil plucked a withered leaf off the plant on the balcony.

“My window was open tonight.” he said, “I didn’t leave it open.”

He was quiet. Roman timidly brushed his fingers against the top of Virgil’s hand. “You can stay here as long as you like.”

Virgil didn’t pull his hand away. In fact, he seemed to appreciate it. He raised his fingers a little to intertwine his fingers with Roman’s, almost shyly. That was when it dawned on Roman.

_ Are we a thing now? _

He felt extremely stupid.

Did Virgil see through him and figure out he was in love with him? Did he feel the same way? Was he just a friend in need of comfort? Was Roman so dense that he’d missed the romantic confession, or was he overthinking and misinterpreting everything Virgil did as a sign of non-platonic affection? 

He bit his lip. 

There was only one way to find out that he could think of, and it would be utterly humiliating. He  _ had  _ to figure it out, though. 

He decided to be subtle about it, a good resolution which lasted all of five seconds.

"Do you love me?" he blurted out, without pause between the words. And without warning. Or context.

"Uh…" 

Virgil looked understandably confused: "I…yes? Where's this coming from?"

Roman laughed nervously. That solved nothing. Love could very well be platonic. Curse the English language for having only one word for love; it was perfectly absurd, he thought.

"I love you too!" he exclaimed, lest there be no misunderstanding there, "But I mean… do you… you know…"

He waved his free hand around. With every gesture, though, Virgil's face grew more and more confused. The question seemed to fly over his head or, more accurately, so many possibilities that he couldn’t pick one and it was driving him completely insane. 

“No… no, I  _ don’t  _ know.” he finally said.

Roman could feel his cheeks flush but it was  _ way _ too late to turn back at that point. 

“Do you…” his voice turned to little more than a whisper, “Are you...uh… I mean… are  _ we _ … a  _ thing _ ?”

He didn’t know what he expected. 

Whatever it was, that wasn’t it. 

“Aren’t we?”

As his  _ maybe-boyfriend _ scratched the back of his head in that adorable way, Roman began to stutter again: “I- I mean… it wasn’t  _ that _ obvious. Like… did we… uh… when did we make it a thing?”

“Uh… yesterday.”

“No, yeah, I-” he laughed awkwardly, “I knew that.”

“Uh-huh.”

"I just needed to clarify."

"Sure."

"And most importantly, I needed you to know that I loved you  _ before  _ you told me you liked boys."

"I know, Roman."

"No, really!!" he placed a hand on his heart, "It's important. I don't love you because there is a chance you may love  _ me _ . I liked you before that. I don't know how much I realized it before because…"

The words died in his throat.

Virgil looked at him expectantly. 

"Yes?"

"Because… I'd given up before even trying." he concluded, "I mean, what were the odds? After the third crush I kind of… stopped trying to make them notice. And I stopped thinking about it. You know?"

Virgil nodded in understanding, like Roman hadn't just spilled his guts out for him to see. He ran his fingers through Roman's hair and suddenly the young prince was overcome with peace. He let himself fall on Virgil's shoulder and there he stayed.

"Virgil?" he mumbled.

"Mh?"

He raised his head so his voice wouldn't be so muffled: "I'm so sorry for accusing your cousin of attempted assassination. I wasn't thinking."

To his surprise, his boyfriend ( _ his boyfriend, _ he repeated to himself as his heart bubbled with joy) shook his head.

"No." he said, "You're right. I… I don't know, but… the sugar, and the way he refused to let me in, and how he's been avoiding me since the poison wore off… I…" he sighed, hugging his knees, "I just wasn't ready to hear it then, but… Roman, I hate to say it, but… you may be right. I mean, if I di…"

"Left."

"Sure, let's put it that way. If I  _ left,  _ then Damien would be the undisputed king." he scratched the back of his head again, "I mean… he has something to gain from it. And I… I don't know. I wonder if there was ever a time he  _ did _ love me. You know, we were like siblings."

"I know…"

"I've known him for longer than I've known my parents. He has lived with me for longer than they have. And I…" his voice cracked just a little, "I really thought I could trust him, you know?"

Roman nodded sadly.

They didn't speak again until the burning question took root in Roman's mind; a simple little question that he'd wanted to ask for a while.

"Virgil?" 

"Mh?"

"Can I…" he cleared his throat, "Can I k'ss y'?" he mumbled.

"What?"

He made a noise halfway between an angry preschooler and a frustrated duck. 

_ It's just four words. _

_ Come on. _

"Roman?"

He gathered his wits when he heard Virgil ask for clarification. He turned his rapidly flushing face to him: "VirgilcanIkissyou?"

He felt his heart sink a little when the prince laughed awkwardly. Except…

“I thought you’d never ask.”

He was suddenly a lot closer to him than he remembered. Virgil’s breath was already tickling his chin and his hair brushed against Roman’s forehead, soft and somewhat ruffled and maybe a little damp from the bath he’d clearly had earlier. It smelled nice. But Virgil stopped there. 

He panicked slightly. Had he changed his mind or was he just waiting for Roman to lean in? It was the latter, he decided, looking at Virgil’s semi-closed eyelids. 

He closed the distance between them. 

It felt like love. Virgil’s lips were dry, but somewhat soft even so; his hair still tickled Roman’s forehead and their fingers were still intertwined. 

He pulled away just an inch when his breath ran out. The lovestruck sigh he heard, he realized only much later, probably came from him. 

“N… nice.” Virgil whispered, before breaking into a quiet, awkward chuckle. 

“I’m in love with you.” Roman murmured, all in one breath, “I think I’m in love with you.”

His heart was pounding in his chest. 

“Well, that’s good to know.” said Virgil, equally dazed. They both seemed to have lost all sense of space and time at that moment. 

Their lips stretched into a big smile, as if the kiss had finally persuaded them to.

The silence lasted a while, but none of it was heavy or awkward anymore, because the empty space was now full of all the affection that had remained unspoken before. Virgil’s head was once again on his shoulder when he called out to him: “Roman?” 

“Mh?”

“I think I’m ready for that walk now.”

The corridors were already dark, but they didn’t need to worry about being spotted. Roman was allowed out with company until midnight, with an extension of thirty minutes, as per the Curfew Agreements first drafted at age 10 and reviewed and corrected at age 14, with Logan’s permission. He smiled. 

“What a lovely night, hm?” he chuckled, letting his fingers brush against Virgil’s hand. 

“It is. You sap.”

“I’m a sap and you love it.”

“Can’t argue with that.” Virgil shrugged. 

They laughed quietly. Moonlight painted the trim of Virgil’s jacket a silver sheen. Roman took a moment to take it all in. He silently lifted the lock on the window and stuck his head out to feel the night air on his face. He wasn’t going to leave the palace, that would be idiotic, but he did need some air.

He heard Virgil chuckle softly behind him.

“The weather’s nice outside, I take it.”

“Heavenly.” Roman sighed.

Virgil almost responded, but stopped.

“Do you hear that?” he whispered.

Roman brought his head back inside. He did hear it. A muffled voice from the next room, no,  _ two _ voices, angry and cold and unstable. They sounded like the vocal equivalent of a powder keg in a burning warehouse. A chill ran up his spine, like the tip of a cold blade being dragged across his back.

_ Something is happening. _

He barely had time to turn around before a scream rang out. 

It came from Damien’s room.

Breaking down a door always sounded so easy in books. 

It really wasn’t.

His shoulder throbbed with a dull and hot pain, like his blood vessels were rising in protest against him. He barely registered Virgil yelling beside him.

Finally, the door gave way.

He stumbled forward a few steps before tripping on a crease in the carpet and splashing right into a puddle on the floor.

It wasn't water, he realized a second too late when he saw it stain his white jacket a dark red.

Virgil screamed something.

He looked up to see a hand hanging lifelessly off the side of the bed. Scrambling to get up, he finally saw who it belonged to.

There was a knife embedded up to the handle in his chest, but that wasn't the only place it had been. There was a hole in his sleeve, and one on his shoulder, and another in his gut, and a deep gash across the left side of his face.

The window was open.

A fresh summer breeze made the curtains flutter.

It was exactly thirty minutes past midnight, and Damien had been stabbed five times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gotcha with the fluff.  
> It's MY comfort character and I get to project 
> 
> Please do feel free to yell at me, as per usual.
> 
> Next time: Spiralling down.
> 
> -Cass


	15. Doubt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: graphic description of bløöd

Virgil wasn’t being helpful, and Roman didn’t blame him in the slightest. 

He was crying. His hands were shaking too much to keep any decent pressure on his cousin’s spasming gut. Damien was awake and alive, but the only sound he could make was a feeble wheeze, muffled by the blood that was slowly filling his mouth. Virgil couldn’t speak any better than him. He was trying, clearly, but he only managed to sob one syllable at a time, before he had to take in another shallow breath. 

Roman gave the door a sideways glance. Someone was bound to have heard the noise, right? Except no one was coming. 

“ _ Remus _ !!” he shouted.

No answer.

With no other option, he turned to his weeping lover.

“Virgil, I need you to find help.”

Virgil made a shocked sob: “I- I… I c… can’t…”

“I will do what I can, I promise.” Roman whispered, “But he needs a medic. I’ll stay with him. You can see him later, we’ll save him, okay? I promise. I promise.” he murmured, pressing a clumsy kiss to Virgil's temple.

Virgil stumbled away from his cousin with a barely coherent apology. He hit his shoulder on the way out. 

Roman felt his heart sink further and further into his gut. He could hear someone outside already. He gathered up the sheets and pressed them to Damien’s chest again.

His train of thought was running fast. So Damien wasn’t guilty. Was he? There were only two possibilities: either he’d tried to kill Virgil and someone else was out to kill  _ him _ , or someone was after both of them. He didn’t know which was worse.

He almost punched Logan when his tutor grabbed him by the shoulder.

He didn’t say anything. The gears behind his eyes were spinning fast as he joined Roman in keeping pressure on the wounds. His gaze flitted from one side of the room to the other, looking for a solution, anything that could help him, but his lips remained tightly shut and his face tense.

It was still tense when Patton ran in with a nurse.

To be perfectly honest, Roman didn't remember much of what happened after that. Someone dragged him away from Damien and he was left standing in his room, his clothes splattered with red and his hands completely soaked in it. He felt himself fall into a chair. 

He could still hear panicked voices from somewhere. 

_ Keep that up! _

_ I need another towel here. _

_ Dammit, he’s unconscious! _

_ Someone get Mary! _

The door to the common room creaked when Remus poked his head in. He gave Roman’s bloody clothes little more than a sideways glance as he sat on the bench across from him. 

“What the fuck?” he mumbled. 

Roman didn’t have it in him to call him out on his improper language. “I don’t know.” he said. 

They went quiet, but the palace didn’t.

He didn’t see Patton or Virgil for a while after that. He didn’t even know where exactly Virgil was. He couldn’t hear his voice anymore. Still, he must have been safe, because Logan had promised him he would have someone stay with him.

“Who do you think it was?” he asked Remus in an attempt to distract himself.

“Hell if I know.” his brother mumbled, “All I know is, we better find out soon.” 

He agreed silently, nodding his head. Remus wasn’t looking at him, but he didn’t really have to, because of course he agreed. What else? He was right.

Remus seemed to be staring at the painting on the wall without seeing it. His eyes were almost glassy, like a dead fish. He was probably not hearing the shouts from next door anymore, either. 

Or maybe he was, because he perked up like a dog when there was a knock on the door.

Logan didn’t need to look at them for long. 

“Roman, you should clean up.” he suggested, before turning to his brother: "Remus, are you alright?" he asked, more quietly.

"Golden." was his brother's laconic response.

Roman didn't hear whatever conversation ensued. For some reason, he felt like he should leave them alone.

No one thought to show the twins the note that had been found under Damien's head.

_ This is war. _

  
  


Patton was half asleep when he stumbled out of the infirmary two hours later. 

"Go to bed." one of the nurses had scolded him, but he wasn't too keen on that idea, apparently, because he went straight to Logan. And, by extension, the twin princes. He leaned against the doorframe with blood-splattered clothes and a wet patch of what looked like tears on his left shoulder.

Logan practically guided him into the room by the arm, probably as concerned about his severe sleep deprivation as the twins were.

He was not the first to address what was on everyone's mind, though.

"How is he?" Remus asked.

Patton let himself fall into a chair, on Logan’s invitation: “Stable.”

The twins breathed a sigh of relief.

"We don't know how they keep doing this." the doctor lamented, "We've improved security as much as possible. These people are…"

"Monsters." Remus suggested.

"That sounds about right." Roman agreed, running a hand through his still damp hair, "I don't know of any humans that might do this. Patton?"

"Mh?"

"Where's Virgil?"

Patton's expression softened: "I calmed him down a bit, but he absolutely refuses to leave Damien. I have people stationed just outside the room and it has no windows, so there can't be any danger. Still, I thought it would be best to leave him…" he trailed off and corrected himself, "... _ them _ , alone."

"So I can't go see him?" Roman asked.

"I don't think it's a good idea right now, kiddo." the doctor smiled apologetically.

Roman's shoulders slumped a bit.

Remus scooted a little closer to him: "You wanna do a little reading exchange? You owe me one."

He groaned: "As long as you don't bring one of those… dreadful horror novels like last time. If I wake up at 3AM one more time…"

"That was payback for those horribly saccharine romance novels you keep bringing up."

"Those are  _ classics _ , you  _ heathen _ !"

Logan and Patton slipped out of the room with a smile as the twins started taking books off the shelves.

Exactly twelve hours, three minutes and twenty-seven seconds after the last time he'd seen Damien and Virgil, Roman finally got to meet his stormcloud again. 

He was  _ not _ okay.

Virgil had been crying, that much was clear. The bags under his eyes and the way he wobbled when he walked indicated that he hadn't slept, either.

Roman didn't take any more time to take in his lover's wretched state before he finally pulled him into his arms, though. 

Virgil stiffened.

"Do you want to talk, Stormcloud?" he whispered into his ear, wishing he could have turned his head just a little more and kissed him to happiness.

He felt Virgil's head move slowly up and down on his shoulder. His messy hair tickled Roman's ear.

"Okay, let's go to the garden. Okay?" he asked, pulling away just to look him in the eyes. Virgil, once again, nodded silently.

He could almost hear his broken heart crying out then.

The rose garden was, of course, just as beautiful as ever. Virgil was just as beautiful as ever, too, but it wasn't the happy, perfect beauty of the yellow and purple roses that framed his face. It was the tired, beaten, melancholic beauty of someone who's suffered and is still standing. Roman would always pick that over any perfectly beautiful flower.

When Virgil finally spoke again, it was music to his ears, the lament of an old but still fascinating violin: "He woke up." he simply said, staring down at the petals scattered beneath his feet.

Roman's brow rose in sympathy: "How is he?"

"Terrible." Virgil replied, earnestly. "It could have been so much worse, though. The medic said…" he clutched at his thighs, "...the medic said that he was an inch away from certain death with that last stab. Tha…" he paused with a quiet sniff, "That it's...good we found him as quickly as we did. That I did a good job calling for help and that you did a good job with the first aid and…" 

He gestured vaguely, "I don't know. I had a point."

Roman nodded, deciding he wouldn't correct Virgil on Patton's name. He moved his hand to hold Virgil's, slowly, to give him time to pull away. Virgil closed the distance between them instead.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, stroking Virgil's hand with his thumb, gently, reassuringly.

Virgil shrugged, but it looked more like shaking to him: "I'm alright. I mean, I'm not the one that got stabbed."

"You know what I mean."

"I do."

Virgil didn't elaborate, so he changed the subject: "Would you like to...I don't know...do something? Anything to get your mind off this?"

Virgil bit his thumb nail: "I don't like distractions."

"You're going to drive yourself insane, Virgil. You need a distraction."

Virgil groaned, his teeth still clenched around his nail.

"I know, I know…" Roman chuckled, "You don't like distractions. I respect that. But they're good for you sometimes. Logan told me."

Virgil glanced at him: "I don't know. You come up with something. You're the creative one here."

Roman grinned: "I have just the thing."

The music room wasn’t far, which was great news, because he wasn't keen on walking Virgil all the way to the other side of the palace when most of the guards were in that area. The prince held himself with exhausted dignity, but he walked a little closer to Roman than before. Roman, on his part, let his hand linger on the hilt of the sword strapped to his waist. 

Virgil could still be a target.

They had to be careful.

But all his concerns vanished into mist as soon as Virgil played the first note.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Damien.  
> Poor Virgil.  
> Poor Roman.  
> Poor Remus.  
> Poor Pat- oh you get the point. Of the knife. I apologize if I sound incoherent, I am simply too sleep deprived for your healthy brains to comprehend.  
> On a different note... Music :D
> 
> I'll just go now.
> 
> Leave a comment because I love you :3
> 
> -Cass


	16. Your Melody

The violin had never actually been more fascinating than other instruments to Roman. To be perfectly honest, in fact, he’d always found it to be a little too melancholic for his liking, almost...whiny. But hey, he’d been wrong before.

Virgil’s slim hand ran across the strings, pressing and lifting and producing the ethereal lament of the violin where the bow touched it. The melody was unfamiliar to him, mysterious and beautiful and somewhat sad, much like its player. 

It stopped after little more than a minute.

“I can’t remember the rest…” Virgil admitted, biting his lip.

Roman barely even realized how his hand had run to Virgil’s jaw. “That was beautiful.” he murmured.

The prince’s face flushed, but it wasn’t with pain for once.

“It’s a nice song.” he shrugged, setting the violin aside. 

“What song is it?” 

“It’s…” Virgil paused. “It’s… just something I remembered. I don’t know, I learned this song when I was like...ten.”

Roman tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear, lingering just a little too long on his lover’s temple. His hair was still so soft. So was his skin.

Virgil cleared his throat, snapping him out of his contemplative trance: “Anyway, do you play anything?”

“Why, my dear, I  _ do  _ play anything.”

“Uh… what?”

“I don’t mean to brag…” Roman lied, “But I can play just about any of these instruments. At least a little. However!!” he exclaimed, sliding gracefully over to the corner: “You must know, my beloved, I particularly enjoy the harp.”

“Huh.”

He sat beside the imposing harp. “Would you like to play a duet, Stormcloud?” 

“Aww, there’s the nickname.” Virgil snorted.

He looked more tired than anything at that moment. That could have been shock, though, rather than peace. On a more positive note, the distraction seemed to be working its magic. 

Virgil's tired, beaten smile had returned, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. 

"There's the nickname indeed, my dear." he smiled, plucking a string on the harp. 

"About the duet, I don't even know if that's possible." Virgil sighed, "Do we even know any songs? Both of us?"

"We don't need to." Roman said, confidently.

That seemed to reasonably confuse his boyfriend (the words  _ his boyfriend _ still sounded so strange in his mind), who quirked his head to the side a bit.

"Let's just play and see what we come up with." the prince of Estirith suggested, smiling wide. Yes, he was aware of the potential for disaster. However, the potential for laughs was even higher and he was willing to risk his eardrum if it meant that Virgil wouldn’t have to think about how his cousin had been turned into a pin cushion. 

"I'd rather not." Virgil shook his head, "I sort of want to hear you play now. You made me curious."

"Your wish is my command, your Brightness." he chuckled, running his fingers across the strings to check the tuning.

Virgil smiled a little at the nickname: "Oh, I missed that one. So what are you playing?"

Roman ran his hand along the strings again. They were perfectly tuned, thankfully. 

"It doesn't have a name yet." he admitted, "I'm working on it."

The dark prince blinked. "Wait, wait…" he raised his hands: "So  _ you _ wrote it?"

He nodded proudly: "Why, yes. I have many hobbies."

Virgil whispered: "Wow."

"What can I say? Sometimes I am very inspired." he chuckled, playing the first few chords.

It was a melody that had remained in his archives for a few weeks, unfinished. 

It started with B. Then A, B again, A, B, Em…

It was almost a lullaby.

Virgil leaned against the grand piano with a look of pure affection on his face. He was smiling. This time, it did reach his eyes.

He turned to the piano as soon as Roman had finished playing. B, A, B, A, B, Em, Bm, A.

"You have a good ear, Stormcloud."

"Thank you." he nodded, repeating the tune over and over as if to learn it. That was, in hindsight, probably what he was doing. Roman sat quietly next to him, playing the melody over the chords. He let himself fall on Virgil's shoulder with a little smile.

"You have a beautiful smile, too." he murmured, "Is there anything you can't do, my dear?"

"A lot of things." Virgil snorted. 

"Well, you met all my standards effortlessly." 

"According to Remus, you don't have that many."

Roman gasped loudly, raising himself off his shoulder: " _ That _ little-"

Virgil laughed: "Don't take it personally. I like you all the same."

That was probably the most sincere and casual compliment he'd ever received from him. He felt a sudden rush of affection.

"You're so beautiful." he whispered, angling his head down to lean it against Virgil's forehead. He felt, rather than saw, his modest little smile.

They sat there for a moment in a silent debate with themselves. Their focus was at its peak.

Which meant, of course, that to say they fell off the chair when the door swung open would be an understatement.

" _ Good morning, fuckers _ !" Remus greeted, with a mischievous grin on his face.

" **Remus** !!!" Roman screeched in a less than manly pitch: "What the  _ hell _ ??"

"I was looking for Virgil." his brother shrugged, casually pointing at the prince who, on his part, was very close to hyperventilating.

He seemed to calm down when he was called into question: "What? Why?" 

Remus's face was rarely anything close to serious. That was one of those times. It did not bode well.

"Damien spilled his g-" he paused, realizing that the expression would be maybe a little insensitive even by his standards, "I mean, the beans." he rectified, leaning against the doorframe: "So of course, I'm here to spill the beans to you."

Virgil perked up before he was even done talking: "We're listening." 

The Duke sat on a cupboard that contained stacks of music sheets.

"So…" he cleared his throat, "He said that he was, indeed, the intended target from the beginning…"

"What? Then why-" Roman started, but his brother silenced him with a flick of his hand.

"Let me finish. According to Damien, these people have been… toying with him. In very...  _ very  _ fucked up ways."

No one found it in themselves to call out his language.

"He said that there was an attempt on his life a few months ago…"

"I remember." Virgil nodded, "They tried to smother him in his sleep."

The memory seemed to physically shake him. A visible shudder ran up his back, and Roman almost instinctively ran his hand over it to calm him down.

"They failed…" Remus continued, undeterred, "Because Virgil just so happened to walk in and tried to hit them with a chair."

Roman felt very, very bad for how close he came to laughing at that moment.

“Nice move, by the way.” the Duke winked at Virgil, who mumbled something along the lines of  _ I panicked _ . “Anyway…” he cleared his throat, and then he was serious again: “Damien panicked a little bit. The attacker blackmailed him soon after that. They told him that no one who knew of the plot would ever be safe and that if he didn’t want to drag his entire court into it he would have to lie. And I guess Damien must be pretty grateful he’s a good liar, because…”

He raised his hand to Virgil just as realization dawned on the prince’s face: “ _ That…  _ son of a-”

“Yeah. He lied to you too. Sorry, Virgie.”

“And I  _ believed  _ him!” Virgil hissed, “I believed the bastard when he told me the assassin was locked up.” 

“Hey, don’t take it personal. He only lied to an entire court.” Remus sighed. 

“Wait…” Roman interjected, “So that’s why he wouldn’t tell Virgil what was going on? But then why did they try to kill him anyway?”

His voice was going a little too high and he didn’t care that much.

“Well, Damien was kinda hoping to get him out of the danger zone by taking him to a different kingdom. Too bad they followed him. And they weren’t too happy that he’d tried to escape them.”

He turned to Virgil with what looked like Remus’s version of sympathy: “The poison was a warning.”

Roman felt the blood drain from his face: “And the stab was…”

“Another warning. Because he was fawning over Virgil too much. I hear he came very,  _ very _ close to spilling the beans that day.”

The realization hung heavy in the air above them.

It was at that moment that it crashed into them, like the ceiling had collapsed on their backs.

“So now that he actually told us…” Virgil murmured, losing more colour by the second.

Roman felt himself fall against the piano.

“We’re all on the hit list.” he whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remus the third wheel strikes again.
> 
> ATTENTION: I write stories, scripts and poetry, but I canNOT write music, so the song Roman is playing is not original. WHOEVER GUESSES WHAT IT IS GETS A COOKIE okay good
> 
> But hey, more romance for you. And Damien. Poor Damien.
> 
> Next time: A promise.


	17. Promise

Remus seemed to be checking his nails. Why, he didn’t know. He acted like he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on them both. Or maybe he was coping.

“He said he trusts me.” he mumbled, “But… y’know.”

“A horrible decision, really.” Roman quipped, but his face was the same shade of white as his shirt. His arms felt numb. He felt like, try as he might, he wouldn’t be able to get up again.

His hand immediately ran to Virgil’s, Remus be damned. He squeezed his hand tight. 

A silent promise,  _ I will protect you _ . 

Remus was silent, picking at the frilly edge of his sleeve, where a few little black beads had already popped off under the pressure of his thick, frayed nails. Remus tended to destroy things when he was nervous. His sleeves, his collar, his sash, the skin of his fingers, paper, wood, whatever he could get his nails on. He wasn’t speaking. He was scared too.

“Remus?” Roman called out. His brother quirked his brow. “Virgil?” he called again, turning to the boy sitting beside him. He squeezed Virgil’s hand tightly with his left and held his right out to Remus, who grabbed it almost gingerly. They squeaked when he pulled them close.

“You’ll be okay.” he murmured, “You will be alright. I promise, I will do  _ everything _ in my power to ensure that nothing happens to either of you. I promise it will be okay.”

The music room was, ironically, completely silent. They were surrounded by silent instruments of sound. 

Then he felt Remus shift against his shoulder: “Damn, Roman. What is this, affection? Gross.”

The laugh that came from Roman’s throat was just a little bit too high-pitched to be genuine, but neither of the two commented on it. Remus produced a similar laugh, shrugging Roman’s hand off his shoulder. 

The laugh faded as he walked to the door.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Ro.” he said dryly.

The thump of the closing door sealed the silence between them.

Night fell fast and the curfew was already past by a few minutes when the boys finally ran back to Virgil's chambers. 

"Thank you for...all that." Virgil whispered, picking at his sleeve.

"Any day you want, my dear. Tomorrow, if you feel compelled." Roman bowed.

Virgil stared at him for a moment. 

"I'll think about it." he smiled.

It was still a sad and tired smile, but there was  _ something _ of that spark which had captured his heart that lingered in his eyes.

Roman bowed his head with a goofy smile. 

"Virgil?" he whispered.

"Yes?"

He took one step closer to him. Virgil made no attempt to move back, though his face flushed just a bit.

Roman took it as a  _ go on _ . He leaned forward and closed the distance between them with a short and tender kiss on the lips. Virgil smiled into the kiss. His face was so red that it was obvious even in the pale moonlight that shone in the corridor.

"Goodnight, love. Remember to lock the door." Roman murmured.

"Goodnight." replied Virgil, finally stepping back, "I'll...see you tomorrow?"

"Of course, you sap." 

Virgil closed the door with a half smile.

The lock clicked into place.

Roman did not go to bed, obviously. He stood there, a few yards away from Virgil's room, sometimes pacing to Damien's in the next corridor. He was upset they hadn't let him see him, obviously, but more than anything, he was concerned about the assassin. What if they came back to finish the job? He would never know. He had no idea who they were. Damien probably had no idea either, or he would have told them. If a "servant" went into his room and slipped poison in his drink, he would never know.

Roman paced nervously. His white jacket glistened in the moonlight that filtered into corridor. As he stood next to the window, looking out over the sea of bushes and flowers, he spotted something moving by the stream. It wasn't an animal. Roman slowly walked away from the window. If he pretended he hadn't seen them, they wouldn't suspect him. Right?

They were still there when he snuck out of a ground floor window. He coasted the edge of the woods, trying to remain unseen in the light of the full moon above. His palm itched against the handle of his sword. He was ready. If he could just capture the assassin, it would all be over: Damien would get better and Virgil would be safe and Remus would be okay and no one would live in fear of running into an assassin in the palace anymore.

They were crouched behind a bush.

Roman raised his sword.

_ Don't kill them. _

_ You need them _ .

It only took a moment. He grabbed the intruder by the collar and put the sword to their neck.

"Don't move." he commanded.

They didn't even flinch.

“Whatever floats your boat, Roro.” 

Roman stepped back, shellshocked: "Remus?"

His brother stood to face him, brushing the dirt off his trousers: "Ya got me."

"What are  _ you _ doing out here?? I thought you were…" the rest died in his throat.

"An assassin? Yeah, I could ask you the same question." Remus shrugged, "Except...I don't need to. Not after the way you were eyeing your boyfriend today."

Roman's stomach dropped: "He's not my-"

"Roman."

He fell silent.

Remus laughed: "Honestly!! You should know me by now. You think  _ I  _ would judge you?  _ Me _ ?? Have you  _ met  _ me, brother?"

Roman bit his lip. "Is it that obvious?"

"To me, yeah." nodded his brother, "I mean, you do not waste your nicknames on people you wouldn't die for."

"That...is true." Roman sagged in defeat. "But still. Why were you out here, you gremlin?"

"For the same reason you are." said Remus, "To catch the assassin."

Roman raised his hand in exasperation: "Yeah, that makes complete sense!! It’s not like  _ you _ were the one who told us t-”

"And to mope."

"What?"

"What? I can't sneak out and chill next to the stream in the middle of the night now?" Remus whined, "What is the meaning of life then?"

Roman tensed: "Shhh, Remus!" he hushed, covering his twin's ever flapping mouth, "Do you hear that?"

"..'ea….wha…?" came the muffled reply.

Roman fell silent. Owls hooting, the running stream, little critters scurrying around, footsteps, the wind... _ footsteps _ .

Silently, he dragged Remus back down behind the bush. Thankfully, his brother was used to his shenanigans and went along with it, discreetly peeking out to see the intruder. It was...someone. They were far enough away to not see the twins hiding there. Plus their back was turned.

_ You go left, I go right _ . Roman gestured.

Remus gave the okay.

Using the noise of the stream to their advantage, the brothers quietly slipped out of their hiding spot and towards the intruder. Roman noticed with great relief that Remus was also armed with a mace. He knew his way around any potential weapons. He'd be fine. 

It was, indeed, Remus who had the honour of the sneak attack. 

And it failed spectacularly.

The stranger grabbed the duke's wrist and drove him head first into a nearby tree. 

Roman, curse his heart, couldn't react in time. The intruder easily tackled him too. The impact knocked the wind out of Roman, as their hands wrapped tightly around his neck. He gasped.

They were  _ strong _ . 

Which explained how they could get the upper hand on Damien so easily. 

Roman squirmed. No time for thinking. Air was running short. He tried to release their iron grip with his left hand, as his right remained pinned under their leg. 

He was getting light-headed. 

_ I can't breathe. _

Remus was out of sight, but from the way his head had slammed against the tree… Roman wasn't counting on him.

_ Just leave him be. _

_ If he's alive, leave him be. _

_ Can't breathe. _

_ Let me go. _

_ I can't breathe! _

_ Help me. _

_ Help Remus. _

_ I don't know. _

_ Hel- _

They let him go then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops.  
> If you know what fandoms I'm in, you should know to never trust anything preceded by "I promise" :,)  
> On a different note  
> EVERYTHING HURTS
> 
> Please feel free to yell at me in the comments :)
> 
> -Cass
> 
> Next time: A confrontation.


	18. Rage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Blood

The air felt so sweet to his lungs that he could have cried. He gasped and coughed, and he gripped his bruised throat like it was falling apart. That's what it felt like, anyway.

When the black spots finally left his vision, he could see Remus standing above him. He was fine. He looked fine, anyway. There was a bruise rapidly forming on his forehead, but he was otherwise unharmed.

Roman could've cried.

"You good?" Remus asked.

The prince nodded.

"Great, because we really have to go now!!" his brother exclaimed, pulling him up by the arm, "He's making a beeline for the palace."

Roman coughed and nodded. "Let's go." he rasped out.

The silent corridors of the palace would have been a maze to anyone who was unfamiliar with them. The twins, thankfully, knew every nook and cranny by then. Roman staggered behind his brother with the occasional cough.

“The guy’s strong.” he commented.

“No kidding? Keep up, you sloth!!” Remus teased.

They ran up the stairs on the opposite side to where the stranger had gone. Evidently, the man (according to Remus, anyway) was not familiar with the palace, because he’d picked the longer route to go up. 

Assuming, of course, that Damien was indeed the intended target. Roman didn’t even want to  _ consider _ the other options. 

The open, airy rooms of Thomas’s palace were always an excellent place to run: a significant advantage when they were playing tag, an awful disadvantage when they were chasing a potential assassin in the dark. Remus laughed beside him. He was always so excited about chases and mischief and thrills of every kind, maybe a little too much.

But could Roman really blame him? He hated boring politics and legal affairs and etiquette just as much as his brother, he was just as eager for a good fight, he was just as invested in the excitement of a chase. Whoever that guy was, he didn't stand a chance against the two of them. Not again.

Or so they thought. Remus ran excitedly past a corner and there he skidded to a stop. Roman's stomach fell. The Duke didn't stop for anyone.

He, too, turned the corner, though far more cautiously. His heart sank, as did his arms.

"Stay back!!" yelled the assassin, pressing his dagger to Virgil's throat. 

Remus was frozen, looking at his brother for instructions. He didn't have any to give.

_ Why was he out here? _

_ This is a nightmare. _

"Drop your weapons." demanded the man, as the blade dug into the prince's neck. His skin was stretched taut around it: if he pressed any further, it would break.

Roman raised his free hand in surrender, throwing his sword to the side without a second thought. Remus hesitated, looking at his twin. The utter devastation in his eyes convinced him to drop his mace too. 

"We’re unarmed, see? Let him go now." Roman demanded, though not as proudly as he would've liked. His eyes drifted to his terrified friend. Virgil looked like he was on the verge of passing out, and it made him so  _ angry _ . Hadn't he been through enough? The last thing the poor boy needed was to be held at knifepoint. Or so he thought. But there was something in Virgil's eyes that was less terrified and more terrifying; a kind of quiet resignation, almost welcoming the knife that was so close to ending his short ( _ too short _ ) life. Roman decided right there and then that he would never let him feel that way again.

The assassin was in no hurry to let him make good on that promise, though: "Don't follow me." he ordered.

"We will not." Roman promised, his hands still raised. His gaze drifted to Virgil, stiff in his grip: "You have my word." he added.

"Your word means nothing to me." hissed the man.

"You have  _ our _ word?" Remus tried.

_ Bless you for trying, brother. _

The man glanced between them.

"You will not follow me." he repeated.

"No, of course not. I need to yell at Virgil before anything else.” Roman quipped, but his hands were tingling with rage and panic.

“We promise." Remus nodded eagerly.

He stood silent for a moment. His death grip on Virgil's arm slackened almost imperceptibly.

_ Come on _ .

He stared into Roman's eyes with his own, icy blue and ruthless. 

"Not good enough." he stated. He was  _ smiling _ .

Before they could stop him, he plunged the dagger into Virgil's gut.

The scream that ripped from Roman’s throat wasn’t human. It didn’t feel like his voice. It sounded like the voice of an ancient demon, awakened from millennia of slumber and searing with eldritch rage. 

His arms found Virgil immediately, closed around him to protect him, but a little too late. The attacker, the  _ murderer _ , was already running away, already rounding the corner. Already gone. It didn’t matter.

“Virgil.” he whispered, “Virgil, oh God, I... “

Virgil was already falling against his shoulder. They fell to the floor, still entangled. 

The murderer was gone.

And then Remus tried to run after him. 

Tried, because Roman grabbed his arm with such force that it made him hiss in pain.

“What the hell, Roman?!” he yelled, trying to pry his arm free.

Roman didn’t care. He knew one thing very, very well: if the assassin  _ ever _ touched his brother, he would never see him again. Because everything that icy-eyed man touched would suffer and everyone he got his hands on would die.

Damien was going to die soon. He had pulled through the day, but he would die with the sun. 

Virgil was going to die soon. He’d already gone quiet and, no doubt, he would never hear him speak again.

Remus was going to die soon, unless he could stop him. He could not. He had pulled his arm out of Roman’s grip. The prince’s cries didn’t deter him. Roman’s attempts to grab him again only resulted in him ripping his green sash off of him. And then he ran away. 

“Remus,  _ please _ !!” he screamed. There was something warm and wet on his cheek. Tears or blood? He was bleeding. No, he wasn’t. Virgil was. It hurt.

Remus rounded the corner and was knocked to the ground. There was a red mark on his forehead. He remained still as someone dragged him away by the ankles, painting a red streak across the carpet.

And then he was gone.

Silence after a commotion was something scary.

He was too still as Virgil bled out in his arms, staining Remus’s green sash red.

It was at that moment that it happened.

Something deep inside Roman’s mind snapped.


	19. Chapter 19

_ June 4th _

_ My dear Emile, _

_ Do forgive my long silence; I hope I have not worried you. It has been a strange and fearful week. When we arrived this year, much like the others, the twins were joyful and mischievous as they’ve ever been. Roman was not concerned with anything on our way here. If only you could see him now, Emile: he is so frightened that he will not speak. I am writing to request your presence here or, if it should be impossible for you, I beg you to at least provide the information necessary to address the situation myself.  _

_ I shall start from the beginning. _

__

When Logan rushed into the hallway, he felt like his heart had stopped beating. There had been a commotion of some kind, clearly. Roman was kneeling on the floor, with prince Virgil lying unconscious across his thighs, who was bleeding, bleeding  _ too much _ , from a wound in his gut. 

He was at grave risk of exsanguination, he realized, as he knelt down next to Roman.

But Virgil wasn't the worst part of that situation to him. Because Roman wasn't looking at him. He wasn't looking at anything in particular. His glassy eyes stared straight ahead, unblinking and emotionless.

Logan tore his eyes away from the expressionless face of his ward to tend to Virgil and his heart sank further. Remus's frayed and ripped up sash was slowly soaking up with Virgil's blood, but its owner was nowhere to be found.

"Roman, where is your brother?" he asked, softly, as he pressed his hands to Virgil's gut.

Roman didn't answer. He didn't have so much as a  _ hint _ of a response. Not even when Logan increased the pressure, eliciting a small cry of pain from Virgil. Roman looked more like a doll in his likeness than a living person and he  _ really _ didn’t have the time to think about that at that moment, because there was a serious medical emergency and he was the only person around and he had to do  _ something _ ,  _ immediately. _

It wasn’t difficult to pry Virgil out of Roman’s lax grip, nor was it a challenge to carry him, small as he was. 

“Roman, come on.” he encouraged, gently pulling him along by the wrist. He didn’t resist. At all. He just followed him, docile and silent, all the way to the infirmary.

_ Roman would not speak to me or even look at me. In fact, he was not looking at anything at all; his eyes were fixed forward, on whatever was in front of them, unseeing. Upon first finding him, I had initially worried he may have lost his eyesight or suffered a concussion, but Patton assured me that he is not affected by any physical ailment aside from the bruise around his neck. Patton was positive, however, that even that was merely an attempt to incapacitate him and that he had not suffered any significant damage. _

_ As for Remus, I do not know of his whereabouts. I do not mean to alarm you, Emile, but I have reason to believe he has not left the palace of his own volition. I do know he is alive, if only from the taunts of our enemy. _

_ Prince Virgil has regained consciousness and, upon his cousin’s request, been transferred to his chambers. Damien would not be still until he saw him. They keep asking for the twins, and I am not sure it would do any good to tell them the truth. Prince Virgil seems to be peculiarly distressed. _

Roman was completely silent as the nurses talked to Logan. He was sitting on a chair in the corner, unphased, as the rest of the court scoured the city in a panic, searching for Remus. The duke was the one person that was unaccounted for and, in all honesty, it would have been helpful if Roman could just  _ answer their questions _ . But no, he hadn’t said a single word the entire time. No amount of coaxing had warranted a reaction from him.

Logan knew he wasn’t the best person to address it. 

When had he ever been?

So, three hours later, he finally settled for calling in Patton. Who was not exactly thrilled.

“I’m just a physician, Logan.” he protested, but his heart wasn’t in it. His eyes kept drifting to the catatonic prince. “I don’t want to make the situation worse.” he murmured.

“Worse? Patton, look at him." he whispered back. Roman was sitting at the piano. Pressing the same key over and over and over again. 

F.

F.

F.

F.

Rhythmically, but not melodically. Like he was trying to remember what came after F. 

"I sincerely doubt it can get any worse than this.” he sighed.

“But what if it does?” Patton insisted, “We’re not even sure what the problem is.”

“Patton,  _ please _ .”

The doctor sighed deeply. “I can only promise to try.” 

“That’s all I ask of you.” Logan clarified, setting his hand on his friend’s shoulder in support. 

Patton gave him a little smile: “Well, I suppose I’m… a good try-er?”

“That is not proper grammar, but yes. An excellent tryer.”

“Okay…” he snorted. They both turned to Roman. 

Patton knelt in front of the prince with a smile so fragile it might as well be made of crystal.

“Hey, kiddo. How are you feeling?”

No answer.

“You alright? I’m gonna need you to talk to me, Roman. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong!”

No answer.

“Kiddo, we could really use some help here. We need to find your brother. Do you know what happened to him?”

No answer.

Patton’s smile gradually cracked and chipped away with every question that went unanswered. He ran his hands up and down Roman's arms, like one would do to a child complaining about the cold, a scared little boy. That didn’t elicit a reaction either.

Patton stood up to face Logan. "I'm sorry." he said, "I don't think he can hear me."

Logan's heart sank into the icy depths of hopelessness. He fixed his glasses and he fixed his face. It was cracked. He could _ not  _ lose his cool at that moment. He couldn't afford to.

"Logan?" his friend called, "I don't know him like you do. I think if there is one person that can get through to him…"

"No."

"You're better than you think." he smiled. He  _ believed _ it. It was so clear on his face that he believed in what he was saying.

"Patton, I am not good at… this." Logan sighed, "I'm extremely incompetent in this field. I have very little empathy."

"Okay, first of all: I doubt that. But even if it’s true, you don't need empathy to have compassion, Logan." he replied, confidently, "You can get through to him. I know you can. You know him better than… almost anyone else. The only other person I can think of is Remus, and it's for his sake too that you  _ have  _ to do this. I'm sorry to put this on you, but you really are the man for the job." 

His voice softened: "Logan." he smiled, "I believe in you."

Something in his chest loosened up a bit. 

“Alright…” he murmured. 

Roman was still stuck playing the same note over and over again.

F.

F.

F.

So he sat next to him at the piano, on his left. Roman was playing on the fourth octave. Predictably, he didn’t react. 

Logan stopped to think. What could he possibly say that would stir Roman’s mind out of the loop it seemed to be stuck in? What could he say that would convince him to emerge from his bubble and step into a world where  _ everything _ was going wrong? How would he relate to Roman, who was so radically different from everyone he knew and from himself?

He felt Patton’s gaze on his back.

_ Just try again _ .

“Roman.” he called, “I know where you are now. You’re in a quiet place. And I know that it feels comfortable, it feels better to just...  _ not _ feel, sometimes. To let pain slide off your back. But…” he sighed deeply, “How do I put this… It’s not going to help you. It’s not going to help anyone. I’m sorry to ask this of you, but we need you here.  _ I _ need you here. I know it hurts out here, Roman. If it were up to me, you would never be in this situation. But we are,  _ you _ are, and I need you here with me.”

He glanced at his ward.

The boy’s eyes remained empty of life. Glassy. 

Roman simply wasn’t listening. Or maybe he couldn’t hear him. Either way, nothing Logan was saying seemed to be reaching whatever part of his brain was stuck in a loop. He needed a trigger. But what?

Roman pressed the F key once again. 

It was like he was trying to remember how the song continued. And that’s when it hit him.

Roman had been working on a song (he’d heard him play it over and over and over again to make sure it sounded good), a song that started with that exact note. He remembered how proud his ward had sounded when he’d run in with the first few chords hastily scribbled on a music sheet. He reached into his pocket without a word. A crackle of paper confirmed what he knew to be there.

He laid the sheet out on the reading stand.

It was really only a first draft and he melody wasn’t written on it yet, but the chords were.

Hesitantly, he placed his fingers on the keys. He could play, but he didn’t like to. It had been too long.

_ B, A, B. _

Roman stopped pressing the F key.

_ A, B. _

Something sparked in his eyes. His fingers glided over to another key.

_ Bm. _

He was playing. He was playing  _ with _ him.

_ A. _

Roman’s eyes moved over to him. They were no longer just looking at Logan, not just staring into space. They were seeing him.

“Logan.” he murmured, and he fell into his open arms.

_ Somehow, I managed to find the right trigger to render him responsive. And I have only luck to thank for that. But Remus is still missing, and Roman is still greatly distressed, and I cannot tend to both of them at once. I did not think, when I was first placed in charge of these children, that it would pain me so much to see them in such distress. I did not think they would become my own. I scold Remus when he teases me, when he calls me “dad”,but now I have to wonder just how much truth there is to that nickname, in their eyes and mine. Today is their eighteenth birthday. There should be no tears for them today. These past few days have been so hectic, so painful for him, that it has made Roman forget about his birthday. You saw how excited he was before. I don’t know what to do, my friend. _

_ But there is more to Roman’s trance than I first thought. _

_ Dear God, Emile, nothing could have prepared me for his reaction when he saw Virgil again. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Logan and Emile are friends, fight me.  
> So yeah, I struggled for a bit on what perspective I should use for this chapter, since I had never broken away from Roman's POV or at worst an omniscient POV in like two sentences. Ultimately, though, I just couldn't pass up that family fluff and Roman's perspective would've been a bit… depressing. He is not quite… all there.  
> You're welcome.  
> Also I don't think I've ever written from Logan's POV and I wanted to give him some love :,)  
> Last chance to figure out what the song is before I reveal it in the next chapter ;)  
> Why did I choose Roman's name day as their birthday? BECAUSE IT'S MY BIRTHDAY TOO AND I'M PROUD OF IT, OKAY-
> 
> Leave a comment because I am so merciful (lol since when, I hear you cry)
> 
> -Cass
> 
> Next time: Roman's got a few things to catch up on.


	20. Heat Haze Night

Roman wasn’t quite sure when Logan had arrived. Maybe he just hadn’t paid attention. But Logan had played a duet with him, how could he have missed him? It didn’t matter. He didn’t know why he was playing the piano in the first place. Why was he playing instead of grieving like he should have? Instead of being in the first row of the search for the murderer of his brother, his boyfriend and their friend, there he was, playing piano.

He would get around to it, eventually. 

As soon as he got over his fear.

Once he found the man, there would be no stopping his wrath. He knew that, and it was a terrifying thought. So why was he just sitting there, not grieving, nor avenging, nor, in all honesty, being productive at all?

Any resolve he may have had crumbled into dust as soon as Logan opened his arms. This was the only family he had at that moment, the only person he’d known since he was small, maybe the only person he hadn’t failed yet. He would, eventually. He always did.

He was done making promises. 

For the time being, he just clung to Logan’s shirt without saying a word. Well, no. That was a lie. He said one thing.

“I’m sorry.”

Logan shifted under his grip: “What?”

“I messed up!” he cried out, but it was muffled by his tutor’s shoulder, “I broke my promise, and now-”

He sobbed. Logan ran his hand over his shoulders in little circles.

"It's alright, Roman. Breathe."

He tried to. He really did. But the thorns that ensnared his poor heart did not recede. He just kept sobbing and sobbing, because his muscles were starting to get used to it. He was starting to get nauseous from the violent spasms of his gut. It was unfair how much crying hurt. You cry because you're in pain, and you have to endure even  _ more  _ pain before you can hope to feel relieved. Nonsense.

"Roman. Roman, listen. Can you tell me five things you can see?" Logan asked him, calmly.

He glanced around the room. He knew this one. 

"Piano. Um… you?" he sniffed.

"Acceptable. Three more."

"The moon outside. That flower vase. And… Patton's watch. I guess he must've forgotten it here." he murmured, as his breathing started to even out.

"Very good, Roman. Now, four things you can touch."

"Your shirt." he immediately answered, letting his fingers relax a little. "Uh… and my shirt, too. The chair. The piano keys."

His hands fell from Logan's back.

"You're doing great. Now tell me three things you can hear."

Roman wiped his eyes.

"Your voice…" he whispered, "The sound of… of shouting, outside. And… an owl."

His lungs started to feel full again.

"Two things you can smell. We're almost done, I promise."

Roman gave a little sniff. "Disinfectant. And a… very faint smell of flowers."

"Very good, Roman. Now one thing you can taste."

Roman looked down.

"Blood." he murmured.

Logan gave him one last pat on the back, letting his hand linger there.

"What we just did is called a grounding exercise. Your mind was reeling and we needed to bring you back to the present." he explained, "Now that you're here…"

Roman nodded, quietly.

His tutor raised his brow. There was something about his behaviour that was puzzling him, clearly. Then, a spark of recognition lit his eyes: "Roman, although you're no longer catatonic, you still seem to be stuck on something. What's troubling you? This isn't like you."

“What’s troubling me? What’s  _ troubling  _ me? Logan, why aren’t you angry?” he exploded. His irritation was seemingly misplaced, though, because his tutor just looked very confused. 

“What do you mean? Why would I be angry with you?”

Roman wasn’t sure how to approach the topic. Logan was unreadable. Why was he so calm? For his own sake, or Roman’s? 

He decided to face the problem, head on: “Why aren’t you angry? I was with them, and… and I didn’t…”

“I’m going to stop you right there, Roman. You did what you were best equipped to do in the situation you found yourself in. I could never hold that against you.”

“But I promised!”

“That was your mistake.” Logan said, earnestly, “You should not make promises you’re not sure you can keep. However, if you do fail to keep them despite your best efforts, you cannot be chastised for that. Roman, it’s okay. I’ve already got several search parties out for Remus, all you’ve got to do now is-”

He paused, looking at Roman’s face. The prince was staring at him with wide and pained eyes.

“Remus isn’t here?” he asked, little more than a whisper.

Logan blinked a few times. The gears behind his eyes were spinning fast, trying to figure  _ something  _ out. What was it? Was the question really that stupid? It may have been. He fixed his glasses with a sigh: “Alright, I see what the problem may be here. Roman, I don’t think you’re remembering things very clearly.”

That was a lie. He remembered the incident a lot more vividly than he would have liked. He could still feel the blood on his hands and the ripped up sash in his arms and Virgil’s slowing pulse…  _ Virgil _ . Remus wasn’t there, but no one had mentioned Virgil. He had to see him. He had to send him off. That was what any good friend would do, and he  _ had _ to get some closure. That was what Logan had always told him. 

Logan. 

He was being so nice to him. Why, he didn’t know. He must’ve been crushed, too. Remus was just as much his ward as Roman was. Yet he was so calm. Why? 

It didn’t matter.

“Logan?” he murmured, “Can I see Virgil? Please?”

He looked surprised: “Of course.”

The walk to Damien's room was utterly torturous. Logan made sure they took the other way around from where the bloodstains still lay. Unfortunately, that was also the longer way from where they were. The room was locked, as it ought to be. 

Logan knocked six times. Three and then three more. A code.

The lock clicked.

“Logan.” Patton greeted. He had a tired smile that brightened up significantly when he saw Roman: “Hey, kiddo. Are you feeling any better?”

“I want to see Virgil.” he responded, with a trembling voice. That  _ was _ what he wanted. Still, he wasn’t quite sure he was ready to. 

“Of course.” Patton smiled (he  _ smiled _ ), stepping aside to let him in. He looked happy. Why?

He stepped into the room gingerly. 

The first thing he noticed was a strong smell of disinfectant. 

The second was the sound of hushed conversation.

The third was the twin beds to the left of the room.

The fourth were the people that occupied them.

“Roman!” Virgil cried, “Where the hell were you?”

They were alive.

“You’re alive.” he breathed, like a little piece of his soul had escaped to meet its match.

“No, really?” Virgil groaned, “I hadn’t noticed. Where have you b-” 

He couldn’t finish the sentence. Roman very nearly smothered him with his tight embrace.

"You're alive!!" he laughed, a laugh of pure joy, as he pressed his lips to his forehead, peppered his face with little kisses. “ _ How _ ? How are you- I saw you…” 

He pressed Virgil's face to his shoulder with one hand and circled his shoulders with the other. He'd expected some kind of snide remark from him. An offhand comment, from Logan or Damien. Maybe a chuckle or a squeal from Patton. Instead, he was met with dead silence. Virgil pried the prince’s arms off of himself: “Hold on.” he said, “What did you think I was?”

Roman blinked. Everyone’s eyes were suddenly on him, piercing his back uncomfortably.

“I…” he stuttered, “I… I saw you… I saw you stop breathing and… and Logan said..."

And now everyone was looking at him with expressions ranging from confused, to compassionate, to absolutely horrified. 

“Roman…” his tutor started, very cautiously, “What else do you remember?”

Why was everyone suddenly so concerned? And why were Virgil and Damien suddenly alive? 

“I… I don’t know…” he murmured.

“Tell me everything you remember.” Logan encouraged him, “From the start. This is very important.”

“Start from the attack.” Damien chimed in, weakly. He had barely moved throughout the entire conversation, alive but definitely not well. That was confusing too. 

“But… but why?” Roman asked, holding onto Virgil’s good arm for support.

Logan placed a calming hand on his shoulder.

“Roman…” he said, “Your memory seems to be compromised. We need to separate what is real…”

“...from what you’ve imagined.” Virgil completed. He gave an encouraging look.

And Roman started talking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, that is a reference to Heat Haze Days, yes I love that song, no I'm not sorry for giving you that mental image :)
> 
> Roman's mind, as I mentioned, may be a little... scrambled, at the moment. He's fine, guys. It's only the worst birthday ever, he's fine.
> 
> Damien can barely move but he lives to spite fortune and the odds. Mood.
> 
> Leave me a comment because this chapter was difficult :D  
> (For real, writing such falsehoods as "Cass just killed off several characters" is difficult)
> 
> -Cass
> 
> Next time: Unraveling the memory yarn
> 
> Edit: I just realized I forgot to reveal the song.  
> It's actually the Healing Incantation from Tangled because I CAN MAKE TANGLED REFERENCES ANYWHERE OKAY


	21. False Memory Syndrome

“I saw someone in the garden.” Roman started, “I saw a person near the stream, alone. I believed them to be the assassin, and I resolved to seize them at once. I was mistaken.”

“How come?” Logan asked.

“It was only Remus.”

He felt a small stab in his gut at the mere mention of his brother’s name. Nevertheless, he pressed on: “He said he was guarding. And… and, in his own words,  _ moping _ .” he laughed, dryly. No one else laughed.

“We heard footsteps nearby. We hid behind a bush and… and we saw someone.” his voice dropped to a whisper, “Stalking the grounds of the palace. We resolved to capture them. Remus went first, but the assassin stopped his attack and… and he... “

Virgil gripped his arm a little tighter in support.

“...and he slammed him into a tree. Head first.” he finished. Ignoring the blatant horror on Patton’s face and the general nervousness that now pervaded Damien’s chambers, he continued: “I was too slow. He grabbed me by the throat and he tried to strangle me. I’m not sure what happened next, but he let go and ran away before I could suffer any serious damage.”

The other four all sighed in relief, but did not otherwise comment on his story.

“Remus and I ran after him. And, um…” he turned his eyes to Virgil, “I’ve been meaning to ask, my dear. Why were you out there?”

“I wasn’t.” the prince shook his head almost defensively, “I got out of bed because I heard you shouting outside, but I didn’t open the door. It was locked. I had locked it. But then the guy just opened the door and grabbed me and I have no idea how he managed that.”

"I do." Patton spoke up.

Everyone turned to the physician, who in turn walked up to the door.

"See," he said, "This is what it's supposed to sound like when you lock or unlock the doors here."

_ Click _ .

"But…" he continued, "When I went to retrieve some clean clothes for Virgil I thought I should lock the door behind me. Force of habit. So I locked it, and it made a different sound. More like a  _ thud _ . I think the lock had already been tampered with when Virgil was attacked."

"That would also explain why I didn't hear anything when they came in the first time." Virgil nodded, a little whiter in the face than before.

"So how did they get into  _ this _ room?" Damien rasped out.

That seemed to stir Patton into a proud frenzy: "That's the other thing!!" he exclaimed, making his way to one of the windows, "This window sounds wrong too. I noticed while I was airing out the room. And it was this one that was open when…"

He stopped. Everyone understood anyway.

Logan cleared his throat: "As much as I admire your reasoning, Patton, and I really do, your deduction is solid…"

The doctor's face lit up with a bright smile.

"...still, we went off-topic. Roman, please continue."

"Alright…" the prince murmured, settling against Virgil's shoulder and still clutching his good arm, "When we rounded a corner, the assassin was there. H… he was threatening Virgil."

The way Damien's eyes fell to the floor didn't escape him.

"We dropped our weapons. We did everything he told us to do!! We promised not to follow him!!"

His voice cracked. He didn't like it.

"And he just… he just said  _ not good enough _ and…"

He didn't finish the sentence, but he didn't need to. The neat white bandages around Virgil's midsection were proof enough that he hadn't made that part up.

"He ran away. Remus wanted to chase him." he whispered, "I tried to stop him… I tried  _ so hard  _ to stop him, I grabbed him and he pulled away, I begged him and he didn't listen, why didn't he listen? He-"

He hadn't even realized how scarce and rapid his breathing had become until he felt Virgil's hand rubbing a circle into his shoulders. So soothing.

He took a deep breath. Something prickled his eyes, hot and painful and humiliating. His voice was still cracked when he finally found it in himself to continue his story: "He ran after the assassin anyway. And that man just-" 

He sobbed, letting himself fall against Virgil's shoulder. His boyfriend whispered something into his right ear, but it went right through to the other side and got lost in the summer breeze. Logan also set his hand on his shoulder.

"Roman, I'm sorry to ask this of you, but it is absolutely necessary that you finish your story. Just… remember that you may be mistaken about some things, alright?"

He nodded. Logan was right. Maybe he was remembering things completely wrong. But was it worth it to let himself hope that all the worst parts of his memory were merely a product of his vivid imagination? What if they weren't?

If what he had seen and feared was true, then it was better to never have hoped for the contrary at all.

Still, he had to talk. 

There was no way to sugarcoat what he'd seen.

"He hit his head with something. Really… really hard. A… and there was  _ so much _ blood, and he… and his eyes were… open, but he wasn't moving and…" another little sob escaped his throat, "...and I don't think he made it."

The silence that followed was brief, but heavy, interrupted only by his own quiet sobbing. No one moved, for a second. Then, Patton spoke up: "Roman, something doesn't add up there."

"A few things." Virgil nodded.

He just looked at them with confused, tearful eyes.

"There was no blood in that hallway, aside from Virgil's." the doctor explained, "None at all where Remus would have been."

"Yeah, and his eyes weren't open, either." Virgil agreed, "I remember that much."

"But-"

"We've already found an inconsistency." Logan murmured, "Which means there might be more."

"No, wait!!" Roman cried, "How would Virgil know what happened? He was unconscious!!"

Virgil seemed to take offense to that: "What?? No, I wasn't. I was talking to you the entire time. Didn't you hear me?" 

Roman paused. He answered, more quietly than he would have liked: "No?"

"Well, that was a waste of a tearful  _ final words _ monologue." Virgil sighed. 

It was probably for the best that Roman was too shocked at that moment to beat himself up for missing such a monologue. He would come to terms with it at a different time.

“Roman, focus!” Logan gestured more frantically than usual, “What else do you remember? You said I told you something. What was it, and when?”

The prince leaned further back against his boyfriend, casting a doubtful glance about the room. His wandering gaze, finally, fell on Damien’s half-closed eyelids. He appeared to be fighting to stay awake.

Roman turned back to his tutor.

“You held my hand and we went to the infirmary. You told me that Damien had died during the night…” he murmured.

That woke him up alright. 

“Falsehood. I said no such thing.” Logan assured him, “Why would I ever lie to you about that?” 

“I’m not calling you a liar, I’m just…”

“I know, Roman, This is exactly why we’re pushing you to tell us everything. We did not lie to you, your memories did. And we need to spot the lies.” 

He fixed his glasses over his nose: “So, what happened next?”

The rest of the story, they found, was mostly devoid of contradiction. Although Roman was not quite sure how he’d ended up in the music room, nor where Virgil’s presumably dead body had gone when Logan had pulled him away, but he was mostly aware of his steps. What he was not aware of was where Remus was, but he couldn’t exactly be blamed for that.

Logan strictly forbade him from even so much as leaving the room, much less going to look for his brother. Pleading was no use. 

Patton excused himself and Virgil, to take care of necessary examinations with equipment that could only be found in the infirmary.

And being alone with Damien was awkward on account of him being only half conscious.

What a wonderful spot he was in. 

Roman sighed, sitting against the window. He kind of missed his room, on one hand; on the other, he had no desire to return to it with the knowledge that Remus wouldn't be making a fuss in the next room just to piss him off. 

A raspy voice spoke up from behind him: "We need to talk."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes your brain blocks out the trauma.  
> Sometimes it makes up and even MORE traumatising scenario, for your enjoyment.  
> Lovely :)
> 
> Leave a comment because why not, right?
> 
> -Cass
> 
> Next time: A talk.


	22. The Regent's Tale

Damien was surprisingly eloquent for someone with five recent stab wounds. He looked pale, but not as much as when they’d found him; it was a definite improvement, though not necessarily a reason to relax. Talking too loud would tire him out immediately, so Roman scooted closer to him to listen.

Predictably, his voice was quiet and raspy when he spoke: “Do you know why they’re trying to kill us?”

“I don’t.”

“It’s not political.” Damien murmured, “It’s personal.”

Roman brought his chair closer: “What do you mean?”

“It  _ used to _ be political.” he started, “It used to be about a coup. Twelve years ago, the first attempt on Virgil’s life was made.”

It only took a second for it to sink in. “Twelve? But that means-”

“He was five.”

Emotions were a strange thing. It was unnerving how they could make his blood run hot and at the same time freeze it in place like incandescent metal. It was the same, he supposed, as touching a block of ice: so cold that it burned against the skin.

Damien did not wait for him to finish his reflections: "I was your age the first time someone tried to kill Virgil. I was young, and I was  _ so  _ angry. Because someone had looked at this child, this toddler that had just been put into _my_ care, and decided, of their own free will, to push him down the stairs. I was so angry, I was so scared that they would come for him again. I had that man hanged the next morning. How was I to know that it would make everything worse? That he had friends who would just as easily see me and Virgil dead? God, I was eighteen. It didn’t even cross my mind that…”

He trailed off. 

“That?” Roman encouraged.

Damien's feeble voice fell to a whisper. 

"He had children. Two children. A son and a daughter. Little kids, like Virgil, with big blue eyes."

Roman flinched.

It seemed to startle the king: "Roman? What's wrong?"

"Blue eyes. Icy blue. A… a man. Young. Maybe twenty-five." he stuttered.

"It adds up." Damien nodded, "Doesn't it? And it made me even angrier at the time. You know what it means, Roman? It means the assassin had children of his own. His daughter couldn't be much older than Virgil. And yet…"

He stopped. His eyelids seemed to be getting heavy. Roman leaned closer to him, placing a hand on his good shoulder in support: "You can rest, Damien."

"One last thing."

Damien's tone was suddenly a little colder. Roman jerked his hand away like it had been burned: "Yes?"

"I need you to be honest with me."

"Of course."

"Completely honest."

"I will be."

"Do you promise?"

"I promise. What is it?"

Damien squinted at him with a sort of sleepy glare: "What is Virgil to you?"

To say that Roman felt the blood drain from his forehead and his cheeks flush would be an understatement. It was more like feeling highly pressurized drainage tubes spontaneously growing inside of his head and draining the blood from his forehead to send it to his cheeks. In all fairness, being violently emotional had never been a strong disadvantage until a few hours earlier, when it had shut down every system in his body but the vital ones.

“I am required to ask you what your intentions are with my ward. Don’t look at me like I’m going to bite you. You haven’t given me reason to, so far.” Damien encouraged, but it really did not come across as encouraging. His expression was completely unreadable.

But a promise was a promise, and one he could keep. If he was to be honest, so be it.

"I am in love with him." he declared with brittle pride. 

Damien looked at him quietly for a moment. 

"Alright." he said.

Roman waited for the rest of the sentence. There was none.

"You're… you're fine with it?" he asked, very, very quietly.

"It's not as uncommon in Asterion." Damien explained, "Besides, I already had this conversation with Virgil. I wanted to see if you'd be honest with me."

A test, then.

Of course.

"It was a test."

"Yes."

"Did I pass?" 

"The test isn't over yet, Roman." Damien teased, but said nothing more on the subject.

Roman didn't know when the test would end or even what subject he was supposed to study, but he'd never been more determined to pass a test in his life.

There was one thing Roman still needed to do. He would need help to pull it off, though, a lot of help, from a very specific person.

"You want me to lie to  _ Logan _ ??" Patton whispered, but it sounded more like he wanted to shout, "That will never work! I'm a terrible liar!!"

"I just need you to try, Pat, please." the prince insisted.

"Roman, I understand. I do! But I'm not the right person to pull this off. I'm a bad liar."

"Nonsense. You're as good a liar as anyone here!" Roman scoffed, and that statement was the definition of paradoxical. 

Patton caught on all the same, rubbing his arm in discomfort. The first signs of a successful persuasion, but not promising enough to rely solely on them. It was time to break out the puppy eyes.

"Look, Pat…" he started, "I can't just sit here. I get where Logan's coming from, but I can't give him the reassurance he needs right now. I don't need you to lie. I just need you to cover for me for a moment."

Patton made a little squeal of discomfort. The puppy eyes were working their magic.

"Mmmmmfine." he conceded, "But! On one condition."

"Anything." he answered, maybe a little quicker than he should have.

Patton opened the door to his little room and disappeared in the darkness of the corner for a moment. When he came back, he was carrying a large wooden box.

"I got you something for your birthday. I was gonna give this to you earlier, but then… you know…" he murmured. He didn't need to finish the sentence for him to know what he was referring to.

Roman hesitantly lifted the lid of the box.

Inside was a sleek wooden crossbow, with a somewhat floral design carved into its side. An oblong bag, presumably full of darts, lay in the box beside it.

Roman could see his name carved into the bottom of the crossbow.

"It's beautiful!" he exclaimed.

"Mhm." Patton nodded uncomfortably, "I remembered you said you wanted to practice long range combat, so…"

"Thank you so much!"

"Yeah… just… take this with you, alright?" the doctor smiled awkwardly, "I'll feel better if you do."

Roman pulled his friend into a short hug.

"You have my word."

When Patton had a  _ sudden collapse _ in front of Logan, they blamed it on exhaustion. 

When a nurse noticed that his pulse was a little too quick, they blamed it on stress. 

When the Prince disappeared, they blamed it on the Prince's impulsive nature, and that was the only thing they guessed right that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Patton can't lie, but he can act. Kinda.   
> CROSSBOWS ARE COOL, GUYS  
> I don't think I need to tell you where Roman is going.  
> TOODLES
> 
> Leave a comment because it motivates my dying creativities.
> 
> -Cass
> 
> Next time: Roman is searching


	23. Miss Fortune

Roman knew one thing for sure, and it was that no one in their right mind would brave the Dark Forest.

He also knew that two people who would torment and murder were absolutely not in their right mind, so the forest was not off the table. In fact, the more he thought about it and the more sense it made. What better place to hide than the place no one ever goes to? 

The bag with the crossbow bolts bobbed against his hip as he walked just off the path. Staying  _ on  _ the path was never a good plan if the idea was to stay hidden. 

The sun was just starting to rise, which was both good news and a terrible disadvantage: good news, because he had light to see; bad news, because the murderous siblings had light to see  _ him _ . At least he would recognize them immediately. No one else could be in the Dark Forest, right? No one in the kingdom ever dared step into its inky blackness at night, or brave its fearsome rivers in daytime. That was why, when he heard a rustling behind him, he aimed the crossbow without even thinking.

His theory was rendered, if possible, even more plausible by the appearance of the girl that stood behind him. She couldn't be much older than him, with pale blond hair (much lighter than the man's hair, but blond nonetheless) and sleepy storm grey eyes. They were distinctly not blue, which was reassuring, but he had only seen one of the two siblings. For all he knew, his sister could look completely different. 

"Don't move!" he commanded.

She raised her hands almost lazily: "M'kay." she shrugged.

She seemed a little too unphased by the crossbow aimed at her stomach. Almost suspiciously so.

Nearly convinced that he had found the missing sibling, Roman stepped a little closer: "Where's my brother?" he demanded.

The girl shrugged. “If I had to guess, I’d say you mean the guy who looks exactly like you. If that’s who you mean, you’re going the wrong way.”

She pointed behind her back. A path stretched out into the deepest and darkest part of the forest.

Roman was thrown off by her nonchalance for little more than a second. "You had better not be lying to me." he growled.

"I'd come with you but…" she smacked her lips apologetically, "I got things to do. Sorry."

She snapped her fingers.

A thought came to Roman's mind. Of course she wasn't the killer. How could he have thought that?

"My… my sincerest apologies, madam." he stuttered, bowing his head to the girl, "I'm afraid I had mistaken you for someone else."

"It's cool." she smirked, "Now go find your brother."

He felt compelled to do as she said. He walked past her to follow the path she had singled out. She was right!! Little black beads were scattered at the entrance to the path, unmistakably Remus's work, probably with his filthy nails.

When he turned around to thank his mysterious helper, she was gone.

The dirt beneath his feet was starting to turn into mud by the time he heard them. Voices.

"...ing this too far!"

"I am  _ not _ !!"

No wonder he could hear them from so far away. They were in a shouting match, it would seem.

The first voice, probably the brother's judging by its pitch, dropped to a tone that was probably loud enough for his sister to hear, but not for Roman. He had to get closer.

A third voice joined in, unequivocally loud and shrill and annoying, and the most beautiful voice he'd ever heard.

" _ Feisty _ ? You guys ain't seen feisty yet. I've had play fights with my brother more aggressive than this."

That was Remus. Thank God for his unmistakable voice.

"Do you  _ ever _ shut up?" the man asked him, with irritation clear in his voice.

"Oh, I do." Remus assured him, "Just not when people want me to, usually."

"We suspected."

"What do you guys want with me anyway?"

The girl spoke up with annoyed undertones to her voice: "Ideally, nothing. We're still debating it, because  _ someone _ thought it was a good idea to bring you along."

“I panicked! He’d seen my face.”

“So had the prince.” she pointed out.

“Oh, he was hardly looking at me. Too busy with the other kid.”

"The  _ other kid _ has a name." Remus interjected, coldly. That was the warning voice. The  _ hey buddy you're overstepping your boundaries just saying _ voice. Remus's nonchalance was starting to crack just a little.

"It doesn't matter." the girl dismissed him (big mistake), "We're done there. Right?"

No one answered. The girl called out again: “Right, Morgan?”

"Mh? Oh, yeah." Morgan agreed, half heartedly.

So he had one name. He had no time to think about that, though, before Morgan’s sister spoke up again: “What is it? You seem distracted.”

“I’m not.” he protested, “I just thought I heard something.”

“Better not be guards…” she grumbled, “I’ll go check.”

Roman heard her stand up and walk away, right to where he was hiding. Thankfully, she passed him by without noticing him, her footsteps growing louder and then progressively softer as they got further and further away. He caught a glimpse of messy auburn hair and a black cloak from behind.

So the man was alone with Remus now, which couldn’t end well for his nonexistent sanity. Roman could’ve pitied him if his hands weren’t still spotted with his boyfriend’s blood. But he was alone.

The young prince made his way closer and closer to this  _ Morgan _ guy. He couldn't see his eyes yet, but he could make out his face and his coarse hay blond hair under his black cloak, and it was undoubtedly the same man that had stabbed Virgil. He wondered just how many of the other assassination attempts he'd been behind. Had he slipped the arsenic in the sugar? Stabbed Damien? Sliced clean through Virgil's arm? 

Who could say?

Morgan stood in front of a decaying wall of wooden planks that had clearly been part of a hut. Predictably enough, that hadn't gone well for whoever had had the wonderful idea of building a hut in the Dark Forest. Oh, there was nothing wrong with it during the day. It was merely a particularly thick forest. But no one wanted to be in there after the sun set, not only because of the wild animals that populated it, but also the faeries and spirits that were rumoured to haunt it. And they  _ were _ rumours, Logan maintained, but there were simply too many well-crafted stories to trust his theories completely.

Roman raised the crossbow. If the girl had been there, it would have been different, but this was a  _ shoot first, ask later _ kind of situation.

He aimed as carefully as he could.

_ Don't kill him,  _ he reminded himself,  _ you don't need to _ .

He pulled the trigger.

The bolt hissed like an angry snake as it flew, too fast to be stopped, and nailed Morgan to the wall through his wrist.

Roman hoped his sister was too far away to hear him scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look, time to post about a dude being shot in the wrist just before I take a science test that will likely make me WANT to get shot in the wrist :D  
> Morgan and his sister (whose name you will learn soon, I promise) are new OCs and I am already attached to them. Oh joy.
> 
> Leave a comment and wish me luck cause imma need some.
> 
> -Cass
> 
> Next time: A tale of two siblings


	24. I'm Better Than This

Remus wasn't exactly laughing at Morgan's cry of pain, but he didn't look too shocked either. He produced little more than a scoff before his head fell back against his shoulder.

Morgan’s shoulders trembled violently as his eyes frantically scanned the area in search of his attacker. His good arm (the right) was pressed against the left in a futile attempt to stop his shaking hand from pulling on his injury. His icy eyes finally met Roman’s.

His eyes…

They weren’t the same as before. They looked almost docile, with that cold and cruel quality gone. It was like the ice behind them had melted away in the fires of fear.

Roman kept the crossbow trained on him as he came out of hiding. 

“Don’t move.” he commanded, then nearly flinched at the dry chill in his voice. The ice never seemed to leave. If one were to lose their coldness, it would merely look for someone else to latch on to. Roman didn’t want it to be him.

He looked down at Morgan. His knees were bent, like he wanted to sit down, but any movement seemed to send a spike of agony through his arm. 

He didn’t speak, so Roman didn’t answer.

Remus had gone oddly quiet and, upon closer inspection, had apparently lost consciousness once again. He sat curled up against the only good part of that rotten wall, his head leaning peacefully against his shoulder and his knees pulled up to his chest, pinning him upright. His shoulder was resting on his bound wrists, which were, rather predictably, sorely lacking in sleeve decoration. Roman felt a rush of affection sting his heart as he knelt next to him. He was at a safe enough distance from Morgan that he didn’t need to threaten him to be sure he wouldn't be attacked. The would-be assassin was clearly in too much pain to attack anyway.

He untied Remus’s hands. His wrists were surprisingly intact but, then again, Remus was less likely to struggle and more likely to laugh about his predicament. That brought a smile to his face. 

He felt Morgan’s eyes on his back as he put his arm around his twin. He didn't even bother to turn around.

"If you ever touch my brother again…" he murmured, loud enough for him to hear, "The next bolt will go between your eyes."

He wasn't sure he meant it. The chill in his voice certainly implied that he did, but if it ever came down to it… Roman didn't trust himself to murder someone. He wasn't even sure how much he could hurt someone. Already he could feel regret gnawing at his gut as Morgan's hissing, irregular breaths echoed from behind him.

"I… I will not." 

Roman turned around. Morgan had spoken with trembling purple lips, and it did his rising guilt no favours. He had to remind himself of Virgil's shaking hands as he fell into his arms. Of Damien's raspy breath as his throat filled up with blood.

"I j- ...ust want this… to b- be over…" the young man laughed a quiet, humourless laugh. He leaned his head against the rotting wood, slowly raising his pale hand to the bolt. He wanted to remove it. He was in no condition to attempt anything of the sort.

Roman felt himself moving towards him before he knew it. "Don't move." he commanded, more gently this time. He pressed a hand against Morgan's forearm and wrapped the other around the arrow. With no warning, he pulled.

Morgan let out a strangled cry when the pressure on his wrist was finally released, all but falling against Roman. And, as little love as he had for him, Roman still felt a rising sympathy in his chest. He helped the man sit against the wall.

Morgan's eyes were fluttering close and open, on and off.

There was something different in his face now that he saw him in daylight. Something softer. It was almost creepy how different he looked from the last time he’d seen him.

"You've been tormenting us for months." he murmured, more to himself than to Morgan.

"I know." he replied anyway, "I thought we were done."

"Who are you to say that?" Roman growled, "It was  _ you _ who snuck in last and stabbed Virgil."

"I know."

"And I don't know how much your sister did…"

Morgan flinched. Oh, right. Damien wasn't really supposed to tell who they were. Not that it mattered anymore, since there was no way the siblings were getting out of the mess they'd made.

"...but I  _ do  _ know that it was you who stabbed Virgil. I saw you." he finished.

The young man was silent for a moment.

"It  _ was  _ me." he admitted, "Almost all of it was me. Camille didn't do anything."

And that was two names. 

Still…

"You know, Morgan, I have a funny feeling that you're lying to me." Roman whispered, more coldly than he would have liked.

"What gives you that impression?" he replied with equal frigidity. 

Roman shifted to kneel more comfortably next to him: "Weren't you the one telling her that she was going too far a while ago?"

"I meant something else."

"What did you mean?"

"She just… said something very unpleasant. So I told her she was taking it a little too far." Morgan shrugged, but the tremors in his arms had worsened significantly. More damning than that was the way his eyes shifted. He was a bad liar. But the shaking was probably not that, given the amount of blood he appeared to have lost. He flinched when Roman carefully pried his arm out of his shaking grip, but he seemed to relax slightly when he held it at the elbow to avoid touching the wound. Roman reached up to his shoulder and slipped off the pin that held his sash up.

"Don't move." he ordered, "You'll make it worse."

To his credit, he really didn't. He was, once again, alarmingly docile, though whether that was due to copious blood loss or a genuine willingness to listen to him, he didn't know.

Morgan didn't move or speak as he wrapped the sash tightly around his wrist.

Roman bit his lip.

"Listen…" he murmured, "I don't want to fight. I just want my friends to be safe. I was angry. I'm sorry I shot you. I'm better than that, I don't  _ need  _ to… I don't need to hurt anyone to make my point. That was unnecessary."

From the way he looked, the young man seemed to catch both sides of the message. Both the  _ I'm sorry I shot you _ and the  _ I'm above violence and you're not _ , which was excellent because he didn't feel like explaining himself any further. Morgan nodded.

It was a nice moment, but it couldn't last. The feeling that  _ something _ was wrong gnawed at his gut. 

It grew into a stab as Morgan shoved him to the ground.

A sharp little rock bit into his back. When he sat up, he felt something trickling down his side. More alarming, though, was the girl staring him down with murder in her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ROMAN IS NICE FIGHT ME.  
> Idk man I just want soft Roman. But also protective Roman. Good thing the two are not mutually exclusive :D  
> Camille is back :D and she is... extremely pissed. Oops.  
> Anyone ask for soft baby Remus? I don't care, it's a treat. For me :(
> 
> Leave a comment because why not, I say?
> 
> -Cass
> 
> Next time: A fight.


	25. Compromise

Camille’s blade was embedded in the rotting wood, not three inches away from her brother’s neck. She glanced at him with that very familiar spark of annoyance in her eyes, that expression that every sibling knew too well but that, if Roman were to describe in layman’s terms, he would call the  _ what-are-you-doing-you-moron _ look.

The glare lasted but a moment, though, and she turned back to Roman almost immediately. She set her foot against the wall and ripped the blade out without so much as glancing at it, and Roman realized that though the siblings were indeed very different, he had gotten their personalities completely wrong. There was no love, fear, or softness in Camille’s eyes. They were laser focused, and burning with cold rage.

“I told you not to let them see you.” she hissed, clearly directed at Morgan but without sending so much as a glance his way. 

“I did not find him because I knew what he looked like.” Roman intervened, less in Morgan’s defense than his own, “I found him because you two are the only people bold enough to set foot in this forest at night. And you have my brother with you.”

Camille shot another glare at her brother.

Roman raised his arms, without letting go of the crossbow: “Would you please sit down and listen for a second?” he heaved, maybe a little louder than he should have.

Her only response was lunging at him.

He dodged, scrambling for support as he nearly fell again. He had his sword, but it would've been risky to draw it when she was so close and he didn't want to leave the crossbow behind. Then it occurred to him that, though he didn't have a dagger, both Remus and Morgan did. 

When Camille charged a second time, he only moved out of the way enough to trip her. And trip she did, falling hard against a tree and slipping into a bush tangled up in ivy. That should keep her busy for a while.

Roman didn’t have time to check Remus’s pockets. Morgan had probably taken his weapons away anyway, so if there was one person who was armed, it was him. But would he even allow him to take a weapon from him? It didn’t matter.

The dagger was right there.

Predictably enough, Morgan’s weak attempt to stop him failed thanks to the whole blood loss thing. A stuttering hiss left his purple lips: “Don’t.” he whispered.

“I won’t hurt her.” Roman promised, just as quietly. Morgan didn’t let go of his arm, but his lax grip was no match for him and, by the time he turned back to the girl, he was more conveniently armed. Camille’s head was framed with ivy leaves, stuck in her braided hair, a sight he may have appreciated more if she weren’t trying to stab him.

"Can we talk?" he asked again, like an idiot.

The answer must have been  _ no _ , clearly.

Camille's stance was a fighting stance, a perfect one at that, and he had to wonder where she'd picked that up. Either way, she was clearly not backing down. But she wasn't charging at him, either.

It was an awkward standstill, one he wasn’t quite sure how to explain. 

Until she sneaked a glance behind him.

_ Oh. _

“Camille.” he called, and she visibly flinched.

“How do y-”

“Listen. Listen to me. Just for a second.” he raised one hand in her direction in a placating gesture: “We want the same thing.”

“Do we?” she quirked her brow, clearly unconvinced.

“Yes.” he nodded, “I want to get my brother out of here, and so do you.”

“You won’t let us go.” 

“What if I did?” he challenged, “What if I promised?”

“I wouldn’t believe you.”

“Camille.” a new voice joined in. Morgan. “Let him speak.” 

Her brother’s opinion seemed to placate her, momentarily. “Speak, then.” she commanded.

Roman slowly lowered his hands at his sides, in the least threatening way he could muster: “Listen. This isn’t going anywhere.” he reasoned, “This whole thing. I don’t like you. I  _ really _ don’t like you, and I am… so incredibly angry at you two, right now. You have been a nightmare.”

He didn’t even need to look at Morgan to know the nervous twinkle in his eyes.

“But…” he continued, “If I did what I feel like, if I killed you or arrested you… this would never end.”

Camille shook her head in complete confusion.

“Let me explain. I know I can’t take you both.” he chuckled, bitterly, “I know that even if you left him behind…” he pointed at Morgan, “...and you wouldn’t… I’d see you again, wouldn’t I?”

She didn’t answer.

“Hear me out. I know why you’re here, and it’s not good.”

“Who are you to judge?” she hissed.

Roman scoffed: “Uh… someone who's never attempted murder, for example."

"He has a point." Morgan muttered. She didn't outright tell him to shut up, but her glare was enough.

“You don’t know what it’s like to grow up alone. You don’t know what it’s like to have to steal.” she pointed out, and for the first time there was something softer in her hazel eyes. A crack in her voice.

"You’re right. I don’t know that. But I know what it’s like to lose a parent. We were orphaned at five.” he smiled, sadly, shooting a glance at Remus, “It’s not out of fear that I’m asking for a compromise. It’s out of sympathy. I don't want to fight you." Roman shook his head, "Not anymore. That's going to end badly, for all of us. You know it is. If you’re smart enough to disable two different locks without anyone noticing and sneak in and out of a royal palace, you’re smart enough to know how this ends. So what if we made a deal?”

“A deal?”

Roman sheathed the dagger. He was not unarmed, but he was definitely as a disadvantage after that. At that point, it either worked or he was dead.

“The deal is, we never cross each other’s paths again.” he stated, “I leave with Remus, call off the search party and lift the warrant on your heads, on the condition that you never come within a mile of me, my brother, Damien, Virgil or any one of us.”

Camille didn’t speak.

“We break the cycle, we all go home and forget this ever happened. None of us have to live in fear of one another. But…” his face darkened, “If you break the deal, if you hurt any of us, I will be in the first line of the search for you. I know what you look like.”

She pressed her lips together.

“So…” he extended his hand to her, “Do we have a deal?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY I'M LATE I WROTE MOST OF THIS TODAY AFTER AN INSPIRING NAP  
> The good news is that Easter break=less stress=more productive Cass, probably.  
> This story is nearing its end and I am grateful for the real MVPs that stuck with me all throughout :)  
> Morgan and Camille are super new but I'm already too attached.
> 
> Leave a comment because naps
> 
> -Cass
> 
> Next time: Deal?


	26. Saying Goodbye Forever, And Why It's A Good Thing.

“Do we have a deal?” he asked, and Camille took the tiniest step in his direction. She froze in her tracks, her arm trembled as though she was trying to stop herself from extending it to him and finally ending this bloody nightmare. Roman wondered if she was fully aware that it was all in her hands.

Morgan spoke up from behind him: “Millie, think."

The prince felt his heart soften at the nickname.

And then Camille stepped back.

"I think…" she said, "...that you're lying."

There was venom in her voice. He froze.

"I'm not lying!" he scoffed, feeling the familiar bite of panic in his gut.

"Millie-" her brother made an attempt to intervene, but she shut him off.

"Don't you  _ Millie _ me, you moron." she snarled, "You've just been _ itching _ for an opportunity to get away from this, haven't you? For weeks now. What the hell happened to you? What happened to that revenge you wanted, huh?"

"I know better now!" he yelled back, but his voice dropped immediately. He was too weak to shout. "I worry about you, you know?"

She scoffed. He pressed on: "Is there nothing you regret?"

She paused.

"I regret stabbing him five times." she murmured, and Roman could see the muscles in her neck tense. "Should have been six." she added, shrugging the tension off with a smile.

Morgan groaned in frustration: "Would you come out of that grave you're digging for a moment?"

Roman took a step back and out of the way of their fight. They were blatantly ignoring him anyway.

"Whose grave?" she scoffed, "Mine? Come on, Morgan. You wanted revenge just as much as I did and you know it!"

“You’re wrong.”

“Not.”

“You’re wrong.” he insisted, “I told you before, I hardly knew the old man.”

Camille shook her head in disbelief. Roman shuddered at the signs of an argument. He did not like arguments. Particularly other people’s. There were few things more awkward than standing around two people screaming at each other; thankfully, they didn’t seem to be there yet. Morgan was clearly trying to get up, which was unadvisable to say the least, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to get involved in that argument. 

“It doesn’t matter...” Camille said, “...whether you knew him or not. He was our father-”

“I don’t care!” 

She froze.

“I don’t care  _ who _ he was.” he continued, “Do you even remember what he looked like? Because I don’t.”

“I-”

“You know who I  _ do  _ know?” he asked, finally getting his shaking legs to stand, “You. I’m not going to put  _ your  _ head on the line for a stranger who tried to kill a toddler! Or mine, for that matter.” 

He muttered the last part, just loud enough for her to hear.

Not that it mattered. She had gone quiet once again. 

“I thought we were in too deep. Now we have a chance to get out of it, and I will be damned if I don’t take it.” Morgan finished, before turning to Roman, who suddenly appeared to find the patches of deep decay on the wall very interesting. 

He took a trembling step in his direction, but his sister preceded him. 

She extended her hand: “We have a deal.”

He may have been a little too eager, because she nearly flinched when he grabbed it. In all fairness, he had never felt so relieved in his entire life. 

_ It’s over. _

_ It’s over!! _

He couldn’t help the giddy laugh that lifted from his chest as soon as she let go of his hand.

“I could hug you right now.” he grinned. Camille didn’t seem fond of the idea, but she did appear to appreciate the sentiment. Still, he wasn’t going to push his luck.

“Here’s to never seeing each other again.” Morgan sighed, “Ever. We’re moving to another country.”

Sensing a response from his sister, he hurriedly added: “Yes, with Gaëlle.”

The way Camille’s cheeks flushed told him everything he needed to know.

“To never seeing each other again.” Roman agreed, offering his hand once again. Morgan’s grip was a little shaky, but surprisingly firm. Surprising, only for a moment, considering that this was the same guy that had effortlessly taken out both him and Remus. Now that he looked at him, now that he could compare the size of their hands, now that he was standing next to him, he could see just how much taller and buffer than him Morgan was. No wonder he was strong. It was a little intimidating, in all honesty. 

“Goodbye forever.” Camille nodded.

“Farewell to you.” Roman bowed.

“See you never.” Morgan sighed.

Remus wasn’t unconscious for much longer, but he did miss the two siblings’ departure. He was just as happy to see the end of that mess as his brother, though.

The way back was in good spirits. 

“I can’t believe you solved it with good manners.” Remus scoffed, “Who are you and what have you done with Roman?”

“Nothing that hasn’t been done to you, you idiot. If you get kidnapped again, I’m not going to look for you.” he swore.

“Liar liar, Roman on fire.”

“If I do catch fire, it will surely be your fault. You  _ and _ your ideas.” 

“Careful, Roman. You’re giving me some more.” he teased.

Sincerely hoping his brother was not planning to set him on fire, he pressed on through the thick of the forest. At least they were out of the greenwood.

They didn’t run into any search parties, however, they did run into a very,  _ very _ angry Logan (yes, his definition of very  _ very _ angry was a long rant, but it was just as unpleasant as a screaming fit). 

The twins tuned him out.

No one at court dared to interrupt his endless rant. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone say thank you Morgan.  
> So um...this story is almost over. There will be a nice epilogue to wrap things up, and then a very special bonus chapter next Sunday ;)
> 
> Thank you to everyone that stuck with me throughout and happy Easter if you celebrate it :)
> 
> Leave me a comment and I'll see you Wednesday :)
> 
> -Cass
> 
> Next time: Epilogue


	27. Epilogue: July 1st and how to keep a long-distance relationship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is pure fluff.  
> Please read the end notes for some info

"You  _ will _ come visit, will you not?" 

Virgil shook his head fondly: "Well duh. I've never been to Estirith. It sounds nice."

"It is  _ lovely _ , my dear, but I was hoping it wouldn't be the landscape that attracts you." Roman sighed, placing his pen back in its case.

"I was just teasing and you know it."

Virgil held a stack of books in his skinny arms. He looked even smaller than when they'd first met, in no small part due to the poison and the stab, but he  _ had  _ recovered now. Morgan and Camille were keeping their promise, for the time being, and neither of them had been spotted around any of their respective countries in nearly a month. The last place they'd been seen was at the borders of a neighboring country, at which point everyone had more or less forgotten about the two siblings. 

"Hey, what's this?" Virgil called.

"Mh?"

"This." 

He held up one particular book, smaller than the others and filled to the brim with loose scraps of paper, pressed flowers and even a small patch of black velvet.

"That, my dear, is my scrapbook." Roman puffed his chest proudly, "And I was hoping you wouldn't notice I'd left it there until you were home." he admitted, less proudly.

"Why?"

"It's for you." he smiled, closing Virgil's hands around the notebook, "You know… to have something of mine, until we see each other again."

The prince groaned: "Uuugh, you're a sap. It's  _ yours _ ."

"That doesn't seem fair, dear boy. You make up quite a big part of that book, you know." he objected, tapping its leather cover, "It is yours just as much as it is mine. If you want, you can return it once you've read it. I wouldn't mind some feedback." he winked.

Virgil rolled his eyes fondly: "Fine." he mumbled, placing the little book in his bag.

"Thank you, darling."

"You really love your pet names."

"Not as much as I love you." 

"Roman, you  _ sap _ !" he groaned, but his cheeks were a darker shade of pink than before. He was still limping a little on the side where he'd been stabbed but, to everyone's delight, he had lost none of his sass.

"I believe you've already told me that, Frankenstein." he smiled

Virgil scoffed: "Do not compare me to that guy. You are a hundred times more irresponsible than I'll ever be."

"Same aesthetic, though." Roman shrugged.

"Mad scientist?"

"No, edgelord. Have you  _ seen _ how much he complains?"

"Yeah." said Virgil, "You two would get along."

He only chuckled when Roman made his signature Offended Gasp™; it was all he could do, really, after hearing it every day for more than a month.

"You wound me, Virgil. And to think I've taken care of you so diligently-"

"You ran away like… a day after I got stabbed."

"And then I never left your side again." he grinned, "And I made sure you wouldn't be harmed, did I not?"

He stood closer to his boyfriend, who had, at that point, almost completely given up on packing his bag. He pushed forward just a little bit to bump their noses together, softly.

"And you are no less adorable than when you were in the bloom of health." he murmured.

"It's been a month, but alright." Virgil shrugged.

"Oh, let me compliment you." Roman whined, "Why must you refuse me when I love you so?"

Virgil sealed his lips with a kiss before he could say anything else. 

"Who said I refused you?" 

Before he could answer, someone cleared their throat awkwardly.

"You guys got along better than I expected." Thomas smiled, but his eyes screamed regret. Because… oh yeah. They hadn't told him yet. And he'd found out. In one of the most awkward ways he possibly could.

The two princes scrambled away from each other with stuttered, incoherent excuses.

Roman composed himself first: "Thomas!! We- I- uh… hadn't heard you come in."

"I can tell." the king laughed, stepping back just a little, "I'll uh- I'll get out of your hair in a minute, I just um… Damien asked if you were done? I guess not but like… yeah. That's it. Okay, bye!!"

He was out the door before they could stop him.

Roman was the first to laugh.

"I knew we… I knew we should've told him." he wheezed into his hands.

Virgil went back to his bag.

They were all gathered in front of the steps to the palace.

Remus was, as usual, distracted. Specifically, by an enormous spider that had unfortunately found its way into his hands. Poor little guy.

Poor Patton, too, who kept eyeing Remus with muscles that looked like they'd been replaced by piano wire and a tiny drop of sweat running down his neck.

Damien sat on the steps for the time being. He still needed some help to move and he was definitely not ready to climb into a carriage after getting down the stairs. But he  _ was  _ doing better. He would recover eventually, and he'd been gone for long enough.

"It took you long enough." he reprimanded, when Virgil walked up to him.

"I was packing."

"I'm sure." Damien mumbled, but he didn't elaborate. He didn't really need to, if the amused glance he gave Roman was any indication. The prince helped him stand up without addressing it.

"It has been good meeting you." Logan nodded, shaking the regent's hand.

"Likewise. I must say, you make for very pleasant conversation." 

"I ship it." Remus laughed, and it was probably for the best that no one knew what he meant by that extremely anachronistic expression. He patted the spider's head with surprising care, and Patton seemed to relax a bit.

"I expect all three of you kiddos next year, okay?" he smiled, patting Roman and Virgil on the back.

"Sure." Virgil nodded, "You're pretty cool."

"Can Matilda come too?" Remus asked, bringing the spider up to his face, which lost all the colour Virgil's compliment had given it in a second.

"U… um… if Matilda wants to, I suppose." he smiled, gently lowering Remus's hands. His eyes still never left Matilda.

"Nice!!" the Duke grinned, setting the spider on top of his ruffled hair. Remus never combed his hair.

"Well, you're certainly invited." said Thomas, "I'm sorry I missed your birthday…" he added, turning to the twins.

"I wish  _ I _ had missed my birthday." Roman scoffed, "Horrible day."

"I'll make it up to you next year." Thomas promised.

"We're counting on it."

"Well, I think we should go." Damien sighed. He was starting to lean on Roman just a little too much, so he helped him into the carriage in a hurry. The regent sank into the seat with a huff of pain. Virgil followed suit.

Roman stood on tiptoe to lean against the window after the valet closed the door.

"I'll see you soon. I guess." Virgil smiled, awkwardly.

"As soon as you wish, my dear." he said.

He searched for Damien's gaze behind his boyfriend. The regent nodded. Permission granted.

Pushing himself up even further, Roman pressed his lips to the dark Prince's, and it was perfect.

And then they were gone, further and further away, but no further from Roman's heart.

" _ Gooood _ , you guys are disgustingly romantic." Remus whined, but he was the only one.

Virgil didn't wait to be home to open the scrapbook. As soon as Damien was asleep, he fished it out of his bag. Drawings of him, poems, sketches and ideas, pressed flowers, and that one piece of black velvet that he now knew to be from his jacket.

On the last page was a diary entry from that same day.

_ July 1st _

_ My dear diary, _

_ You are in good hands. I am planning to hand you to my Virgil, and I am confident in my promise that he will treat you right. You are the embodiment of all that I love and all that I create. Stay with him, my dear, and he and I will never be apart. _

_ Good-bye for now. _

_ Roman _

"Roman, you sap." he murmured. A smile bloomed on his lips.

The sun was rising.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH BOY  
> We're at the end, Princes, Princesses and non-binary royalty :,)  
> And I somehow managed to write a romance :,) anywho, thank you to all of you who stuck with me until this chapter   
> The story is over, BUT there is an extra chapter that is very special and not very verbal :,)
> 
> If there are any scenes you'd like to see expanded, I am available to write some Missing Moments on request :)  
> I am also taking suggestions for other AUs you'd like to see me angst and hurt/comfort until I make myself cry :D
> 
> Thank you all for reading and I'll see you next time.  
> I love you.  
> Take care of yourselves, darlings <3
> 
> -Cass


	28. Bonus: Roman's scrapbook

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bonus chapter entirely comprised of things I wrote in the past months while pitching and writing the story :)  
> Enjoy

DRAWINGS: https://drive.google.com/open?id=1-OO8NNKsJGf7fsLZEuEATN91wvs3CEJK

(some of them feature my sides because I ~~have~~ used to have a hard time drawing boys :,) )

THREE POEMS THAT DIDN'T MAKE IT INTO THE STORY

_June 2nd_

_ Brother, _

_ I fear you may drift away _

_ Forget not that in your pain _

_ I am the one that shares and heals. _

_ Brotherhood is strong, and stronger yet _

_ Is the brotherhood of those who share a mind: _

_ You and I, like clock towers, _

_ Always the same, in and outside. _

_ Twin is more than friend and more than father to me _

_ Never forget that I stand at your side. _

_ June 3rd _

_ Beloved, _

_ Your soul weeps in your sleep _

_ And in our dreams finds shelter in my arms. _

_ If I could only, my dearest,  _

_ Hold the pain that haunts you so! _

_ I sit alone, devoid of joy _

_ And your wails haunt all my thoughts. _

__

_ Though I see you not, hear you not,  _

_ For days I have seen nothing but your eyes _

_ For days I have felt nothing but your breath _

_ For days I have heard nothing but your screams. _

__

_ If you but let me hold you again _

_ I would never be persuaded to let you go. _

_ Your soul will heal, my love _

_ For you are strong as steel _

_ And I cannot begin to describe _

_ How proud you make me feel. _

_ You have faced storms alone _

_ And your demons, and your ghosts _

_ They cannot, nor shall they, break you _

_ Though you tremble and you pale _

_ You shall never fall apart _

_ Take care, my precious love _

_And take good care of y_ our heart.

_June 5th_

_ Brother, _

_ Where are you? _

_ I cannot begin to tell _

_ What tears me apart most. _

_ You were my sole companion _

_ When from Nightmares' evil grasp I fled _

_ Now Nightmares are everywhere, _

_ Everywhere, _

_ Everywhere _

_ I turn, I can't escape them _

_ For you, in leaving, took my peace _

_ Fondest love is bliss in times of Peace _

_ But when she falls, so does Happiness, _

_ Her brother, such you are to me _

_ Pray, brother, help my wretched soul! _

_ I pray I find you well. _

_ You cannot defend me, nor I you _

_ And that is the worst of all torments. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's over!! :D  
> This is some of the extra material I conjured up in the several months it took me to plan and write this story  
> It's been a long journey, friends.  
> I'm sad it's over but I'm glad it happened, ya feel me? :,)  
> Thank you so much to everyone who read the whole thing, it went on longer than I'd originally anticipated :,)
> 
> Some fun facts:
> 
> -originally this was going to take longer than a week  
> -Roman went straight to grieving instead of going into shock, originally  
> -the hallway scene was the first thing I thought of  
> -the angst in general came first and the romance second  
> -I developed Morgan and Camille pretty much on the spot  
> -this was posted so late because it took me literal hours to dig up some decent sketches from the enormous pile of drawings on my desk
> 
> Thank you all again. I'll see you next time, whenever that may be.  
> Take care, kiddos :3
> 
> -Cass


End file.
